Suddenly the low banks of the ravine, up which they were now rushing, swarmed on both sides with the enemy, and it was evident that the driving of cattle into this position was one of the usual Zulu artifices by which they were so often successful. The Zulus kept up a feeble and ill-directed fire from the crevices of rock where they had taken cover, and all this time the troopers were employed in heading and turning back the cattle, a task which would have been far beyond their best energies had not an episode occurred which materially changed the aspect of affairs. Alone, in the midst of a score of enemies, the sergeant fought steadily on, loading, firing, advancing, and driving back the cattle as if he bore a charmed life. The Zulus seemed paralyzed, and shunned his vicinity, for when he trotted to where a shield or assegai was seen, it immediately disappeared. He had, however, great need of help, for he had come to his last cartridge; but at that moment he felt a chance of life, as he heard the welcome shout of an English cheer, and, looking in the direction whence the sound seemed to come, he saw rapidly descending the steep krantz above the remaining horsemen of his party, who had chosen another and easier path up the ravine, which enabled them to take the Zulus in flank. The affair was now over; and although no prisoners were taken, the blood-stains on the rocks and boulders around proved that there must have been many wounded. The cattle were all recovered, and Whalley's convoy reached its destination without further molestation.