A moment more and the bristling line of steel meets the black and shining wall of human flesh, rent, pierced, and gashed by a weapon as death-dealing and unsparing as their own assegai. Still, though crushed and stabbed by the lances, and though their firm array was scattered like sea-foam, the Zulus fought on in stubborn knots, nor cried for quarter, stabbing at the horses' bellies as they went down, and trying to drag the men off their horses in the _mêlée_. The lance was now relegated in most cases to its sling, and the heavy sabres of the troopers became red with gore. Never was a cavalry attack better timed or more effective, and never did that oft-abused arm, the lance, better vindicate its reputation as a weapon of pursuit. But now a troop of the King's Dragoon Guards, under Captain Brewster, and some irregular cavalry, are let loose from different sides of the square, and, with Lord William Beresford full six horse-lengths in advance, charge full and fair upon the flying savages, who are cut down in scores until they gain the crests of the hill; but even there no safety or rest is found, for shrapnel, fired with time-fuzes, scatters them like chaff in the wind. The attacking force consisted of twelve regiments, and could not have been less than 23,000; 15,000 surrounding the British square, and 8000 in reserve. Their loss has been estimated at 1500, but it should probably be put down as double, for during the whole of the action they could be seen carrying their dead and wounded away. The total loss to our troops was not heavy--some dozen killed and about eighty wounded. Amongst those killed was one officer, of whom might well be said, "We could have better spared a better man." In the gallant white-and-blue line of squadrons that swept like a torrent upon the scared and flying Zulu hordes, there rode no braver, no more knightly spirit than young, gallant Wyatt-Edgell. The scion of a noble house, and a soldier by hereditary tradition and birth, he had all the accomplishments and chivalrous attributes of his race. His loss was a great blow to all, and his premature though glorious death cast a deep gloom not only over his own regiment, but over the entire camp in which he had spent so many cheerful days, esteemed and loved by officers and men alike, from highest to lowest.