Not a word from a comrade to cheer me, no beat From an answering hoof to make him more fleet, For the nag; but I gave, with the flat of my hand, A friendly rib-binder he’d well understand. Each strap was in place, each buckle was right, As is custom with me ere I ride for the night. I started at noon, and at Panda’s old kraal We stayed, where there tinkled a thin waterfall, To wash out our mouths; and I ran for a spell, With my hand on the pommel, then into the selle―― The stouter the pair of us, so for the rest―― We swished through the grass to the crimsoning west. By the river, and up through the pass in the range; By track of the troops and trail that was strange Down donga and drift, past koppie and stone, We galloped while daylight should last all alone. And thankful enough, God wot, too was I, To be free from the Zulu and his company. Babinango to northward, and south by the map Must be Umblabankosi through yon azure gap. “Half-way, my tough garron, half-way! We shall do If the next merry moiety you’ll travel so!” I groomed his hot legs with the African herb And he snuffled responsive and rattled his curb. Then a thick fog crawled to us and shut up the moon, And the stars too; nor did I a minute too soon, With compass and chart, once more strike the trail, And shake the staunch pony together to sail―― Like a stout ship, keen watch at the bows, and steered small Mid berg and mid mist――to a guessed-at landfall. Well, we fetched it at last; nor did I refuse A draught of good wine in return for my news. The battle was fought, and the tidings were brought By a man and a horse, thirty leagues at a bout. I’ve no story to tell; it’s a matter of course When a Briton on duty bestrides a good horse. PLUNX (Mr. George Heaton). _Second Prize._ I sprang to the stirrup; my friend the _D.T._ Should gallop right fast if he meant to beat me. “Good luck!” cried the rearguard, as past them I sped. “There are Zulus about; keep a bright look ahead!” ’Twas noontide, and near the full heat of the day, As through the fierce sunlight I galloped away. Not a being to speak to; I kept the great pace Alone o’er the desolate grass-covered space; Turned round in my saddle, and saw through the glare The smoke of the burning kraals rise in the air; Then again facing forward each tuft well I scanned, And strapped my revolver more ready to hand. Good news――over hill, over dale, speeding fast―― Ere sundown Fort Evelyn had heard as I past; Then gratefully over us flew the cool spray, As through Umlatoosi we splashed on our way: With twilight there came a fresh breeze sweeping by, And the bright stars peeped forth from the darkening sky.