A last desperate spurt and the bank was gained. Down the steep slope scrambled horses and riders, and plunged into the swirling stream. The Buffalo runs swiftly between its high banks, the water being broken up by large rocks, dotted here and there. Exhausted after its flight, Melvill’s horse failed to make headway against the swift current, and in its struggles the adjutant was swept out of his saddle. Not far away from him, on another rock, was an officer of the Native Contingent, named Higginson. “Catch hold of the pole!” cried the adjutant; and the other, leaning over, made a grab at it as the colours came within reach. But he, too, was carried away. By this time the foremost of the Zulus had come up, and they at once opened fire upon the helpless men in the river. Lieutenant Coghill, meanwhile, had swum his horse across the stream and gained the opposite bank in safety. Reining up on the top of the slope, he looked back and saw Melvill struggling in the water below. There was a chance of life for him. His horse was still fresh, and the road to Helpmakaar stretched away behind him. But Coghill gave no thought to himself, or if he did he banished it instantly from his mind. Riding down the bank again, he plunged into the river with a cheery call to Melvill to “hold on.” [Illustration: GRAVE OF MELVILL AND COGHILL.] Then, just as he reached the other two, his horse was shot. The current carried it swiftly down the stream, as a few moments later it bore the colours which it had wrenched from Melvill’s grasp. The three were now still more at the Zulus’ mercy. Bullets splashed the water round them, and several of the warriors were scrambling down the bank towards them. By making great efforts, however, Coghill being hampered by an injured knee, they reached the Natal side. Here, before they had gone far, the Zulus caught them up, and the two lieutenants turned to make a fight for it. I need not dwell on the last sad scene. Higginson--and we may think no shame of him for doing so--had gone on alone. He had no revolver or weapon of any kind with which to defend himself. Coghill and Melvill had their revolvers. Standing in front of an enormous rock, the two officers faced their foes, to sell their lives as dearly as possible. And when their bodies were discovered days later the stiffened corpses of a dozen Zulus lying almost in a circle round them bore eloquent witness to the gallant stand for life that they had made. They were buried side by side on the spot where they had fallen, while a simple granite cross was raised to mark their grave and tell to future generations the story of how Lieutenants Melvill and Coghill died to save the colours of their regiment.