As we crossed the frontier, the Burmese left the jungles where they had hidden from the dreaded dacoits, and returned with us to their villages. Tamu was quiet, the Manipuri guard had stood firm at their posts, and held the stockade intact, a work Manipuris are admirably fitted for, and thoroughly to be trusted with. My arrival seemed to quiet down the valley for many miles, indeed all the inhabitants for miles round were by the next day pursuing their ordinary avocations, and the only fear was from the dacoits. On January 31st, at about 6 P.M., I received a report that a party of the enemy had hoisted the white flag (the Burmese Royal Standard), and taken up their quarters at Pot-tha, a disaffected village twenty miles from Tamu. This was an opportunity not to be lost, and I prepared to strike a decisive blow. We left Tamu about midnight, the force consisting of myself and Mr. Morgan, fifty of the 4th B.I., seventy Manipuris, and fifty Kuki irregulars. We had to march in single file through the forest, carrying torches to light us, and a most picturesque sight it was, the long line winding in and out under the tall trees, which the blaze of the torches lighted up, producing a very weird effect. We took with us guides from Tamu, and marched in deep silence, every now and then passing a village opening, though we generally avoided them, if possible. At last, just after daybreak, we heard the sound of a musket shot; our Shan guides said: "This is the place," and instantly evaporated. I can use no other term; I saw them one moment, the next they had gone, where I know not. We went on, and after a hundred yards, passed fortifications just evacuated, and soon after entered the village, the enemy retiring before us without firing a shot; we rushed on, and searched the houses. I saw the white standard planted outside a large house on a platform; I ran up and seized it, close by was a tree called in Bengali, "Poppeya," the papaw, I believe, of the West Indies, with a soft trunk. A minute after, while I was looking about to see if I could observe any of the enemy, a volley was fired, evidently intended for me, the royal standard in my hand making me a conspicuous mark. I was not struck (probably just at the moment I moved), but the tree was, and fell, cut in two by at least twenty musket balls.