During the heat of the firing a mistake occurred, which at first occasioned some alarm, but was soon converted into a burst of uncontrollable merriment. Our men had driven the last of the enemy up the hill, the latter peppering away at them from every rock or crevice where they could find shelter, when our attention was arrested by the appearance of a general officer on the heights to our left, who appeared to be making signs to us. It was at first supposed that one of our leaders had fallen into the hands of the enemy, and universal consternation prevailed. The General at length took off his shaco, and advancing to the very edge of the precipice, waved it in the air as if to cheer us on to his rescue, when to our infinite amusement we discovered it was the fellow who had made off with the Brigadier's kit, and who, after examining the contents of it, had rigged himself out in full uniform. The rocks echoed with laughter, and the _pseudo_ general appeared to enjoy the fun as much as any of us, for he capered about in a perfect ecstacy of delight, and gave expression to his contentment in the most delectable yells. A shower of balls was at length directed against him, and the Brigadier's swarthy representative came tumbling down the precipice to render himself and his briefly enjoyed honours into our hands. Amongst the booty carried off upon this occasion were the wind instruments belonging to the 1st Bombay Cavalry, and a bullock, carrying two packages of ball ammunition, which contained 500 rounds each. Some amusement was created amongst us by speculations as to the probable use that would be made of the former, the humour displayed in the appropriation of General Scott's kit having given us a high idea of the waggish propensities of the enemy. Our fun was however turned into mortification when we beheld them cutting our ball ammunition into slugs to fit the bore of their gingalls, and sending it back to us from the heights in as wholesale quantities as they had taken it.