"Our force moved out from Kissaki early on the morning of January 4th, 1917, with the object of attacking and surrounding a considerable number of German troops which was encamped along the low hills east of Beho-Beho (Sugar Mountain) N.E. of the road that led from Kissaki S.E. to the Rufigi river, distant some 13 miles from the enemy's position. The low hills occupied by the Germans were densely covered with thorn-bush and the visibility to the west was not good. Nevertheless, they soon realized the danger of their position when they detected a circling movement on the part of the 25th Royal Fusiliers, which had been detailed to stop them on the road leading S.E., the only road, in fact, by which they could retreat. They must have retired early, for their forces came to this point at the exact moment when the leading company of Fusiliers, under Captain Selous, reached the same point. Heavy firing on both sides then commenced, and Selous at once deployed his company, attacked the Germans, which greatly outnumbered him, and drove them back into the bush. It was at this moment that Selous was struck dead by a shot in the head. The Germans retreated in the dense bush again, and the Fusiliers failed to come to close quarters, or the enemy then made a circuit through the bush and reached the road lower down, eventually crossing the Rufigi." When he came to the road, Selous and his company met the German advanced guard, which probably outnumbered his force five to one. He had, however, received his orders to prevent, if possible, the enemy from reaching the road and retreating, so he immediately extended his company and himself went forward to reconnoitre. It was whilst using his glasses to ascertain the position of the enemy's advance guard that Selous received a bullet in his head and was killed instantly.[82] Thus died Frederick Selous of the Great Heart, a splendid Englishman, who in spite of age and love of life, gave up all pleasant things to follow the iron path of duty. To him his country's needs were ever before his private interests. Like the voyageurs of old he was ever looking for some far-off country where his restless soul could sleep in peace. Let us hope that he found his Valhalla on that day. He sleeps with other gallant comrades who fell beside him in the heart of Africa, far from home and loved ones. Yet it seems fitting that he should lie at last in the land of his dreams, where he laboured so much, and where his name will never be forgotten. No sculptured mausoleum records his prowess, but only a simple wooden cross bearing his name and that of his good comrades stands beneath the shade of a tamarind tree in the woody forest, where the bush-cuckoo heralds the dawn and the lion roars his requiem to the night.