It was a deadly struggle. The Kafirs, beaten back from the encampment, hoped to find safe shelter in their strongholds; but Sir Adrian's policy was as deep as their own. He, too, had had his spies scattered through the land; and albeit these specious savages had sworn to sit still--had humbled themselves like dogs, and sworn by the bones of their dead chiefs to keep faith, he knew that when they professed most they meant least; and, on being informed that Sir John Manvers's large force was scattered, and that some of the burghers had anticipated their dispersion, and were about to depart, he hurried his march, after closing his treaties with the Boers, whom he contrived also to conciliate, and made such an admirable disposition of his troops that the Kafirs were deceived completely. The soldiers, dispersed among the kloofs, appeared to the Gaikas to be making roads and hewing wood: they little knew that, at a certain sound of the bugle, they would be up and ready at any hour of the day or night. Hundreds of the enemy were left dead, after the action, near Sir John Manvers's camp: and, alas! many a family in England, whose best sympathies had been enlisted in favour of this "ill-used race," "driven from their land"--"a peaceful, inoffensive people, asking only grass for their cattle," mourned the loss of a gallant son or brother shot down or assegaied by these cunning and untameable beings. And all day long, and through the dark night, the wailing cry of women mourning for their dead resounded in the mountains, and, lo! from the British camp the triumphant chorus of the Fingoes answered it. The enemy were beaten, and councils were held, and the warriors crawled to the feet of their "white Father," and prayed to be forgiven as little children! But melancholy experience teaches us the value of a Kafir's word! A little pyramid marks the spot where, on the evening of that fatal day, a funeral party of British soldiers dug a grave for the comrades who had fallen in the fray. There are other monuments around it, for a town stands now where long lines of tents dotted the green-sward, and a church is rising in the midst. Within it is a grand monument to the memory of Sir John Manvers, who died ere the body of his murdered son was brought into the encampment. Divided in their lives, are they united in eternity? Within the encampment there were no great signs of the struggle which had taken place on the preceding day. On the contrary, there was an unusual stillness about it, for short and conclusive as had been the battle, the heavy wings of Death had cast a dark shadow on the scene, which had its influence on all. The cottages were closed, there were no people at work in the gardens, men spoke apart and in whispers, and, though morning was in her prime, a stillness like that of night prevailed.