There were numerous deeds of valour performed that day, of which some account has come down to us from the Zulus themselves. The 24th, the South Wales Borderers, a regiment with a famous record, knew how to die, and officers and men accounted for many a dusky foe ere they themselves were borne down. [Illustration: WITH THE FLAG … FIRMLY GRIPPED IN HIS HAND, MELVILL SPURRED HIS HORSE FOR THE RIVER.--_Page 173._] We have a picture of little parties of them found lying with their fifty or sixty rounds of spent cartridges beside their dead bodies, to give colour to the Zulus’ story that they “could not make way against the soldiers until they ceased firing.” Then, and then only, could the deadly assegais finish their work, as the warriors leapt in with the fierce death-hiss. And we have another picture given us of Captain Younghusband, of the same regiment, standing erect in an empty waggon with three privates, and keeping a crowd of the enemy at bay. The others fall at last, shot or assegaied by the Zulus who clamber up the sides, but the tall, soldierly figure holds the warriors off. Then, his last cartridge gone, he leaps down, sword in hand, to cut his way through to liberty if it be possible. It was not possible. But he died fighting like a lion. Said a Zulu who took part in the attack, “All those who tried to stab him were knocked over at once. He kept his ground for a long time, until someone shot him.” Very few escaped alive from that camp of death. Of the gallant eight hundred all but six lay stretched lifeless around the waggons and overturned tents, or on the rough ground to the rear, where a line of corpses marked the path to the river. Lieutenant Teignmouth Melvill, Adjutant of the 1st Battalion of the 24th Regiment, was among those who got away when all hope of rescue was given up. To him Colonel Pulleine confided the Queen’s colours, telling him to make the best of his way back to safety. For himself, and those with him, said the colonel, their duty was plain. There was no thought of flight. “Men, we are here, and here we must stop!” was his brief address to the remnant of the 1st Battalion; and stop they did, till they and their brave colonel had fallen. Meanwhile, with the flag rolled and cased and firmly gripped in his hand, Melvill spurred his horse through the press and dashed for the river. After him panted a score or more of Zulus, pausing only in their pursuit to stab any of the other fugitives whom they passed. For six miles the adjutant galloped on his ride for life, gradually leaving the Zulus behind, though their shots continued to follow him. He had now been joined by Lieutenant Nevill Aylmer Coghill, of his own regiment, who had cut his way through the circle of Zulus. Then the tossing waters of the Buffalo came in view, and how the fugitives’ hearts must have risen at the sight. For on the other side of the river lay Natal and safety.