On our road we passed several villages that had been burned to the ground; poor, naked, and plundered creatures, men, women, and children; burning corn-fields; dead elephants, camels, horses, and bullocks; and the road was strewed with moah-berry, on which they feed their horses for the purpose of making them drunk, in which state it is incredible the astonishing distance they will go, though you can count their ribs a mile off. The rear-guard of the enemy generally kept their eye on our advance-guard, detaching parties on each of our flanks, and, by way of amusement, giving us occasionally a shot. I recollect, on one of these day's marches, a most impudent fellow, mounted on a beautiful horse, and finely bedizened, came within two hundred yards of our column, passing upon us some unpleasant epithets, and once or twice firing his matchlock. He at last wounded a man of the native cavalry. This so annoyed me that I asked his lordship if he would permit me to attack him. His answer was, "Oh, never mind him, Shipp: we will catch him before he is a week older." I never in my life felt more inclined to disobey orders, for he was still capering close by us. An officer commanding one of the six-pounders came up at the same time, and told his lordship that, if he would permit him, he would knock him over, the first shot, or lose his commission. His lordship said, "Well, try." At this moment the fellow fired his matchlock again, and immediately commenced reloading his piece. Our gun was unlimbered, laid, and fired; the ball striking the horse's rump, passed through the man's back, and the poor animal's neck, and we said, "So much for the Pin."