At a "council of war," held at the Burns Hill mission station on the previous evening, Colonel Somerset and his brother-commanders had decided to form the division into three columns of attack; and it was in this order that the troops took the field on the morning of the 17th April. The right column, which was composed entirely of infantry corps, commanded by Major Glencairn Campbell, 91st Foot, entered the Amatola Mountains at the gorge of the Amatola Basin, with Mount McDonald on the right and the Seven Kloof Mountain on the left. The centre column, consisting of two squadrons of the Cape Mounted Riflemen and Sutton's Kat River Burgher Horse, crossed the Keiskamma River and ascended one of the ridges of the Seven Kloof Mountain to its summit. The left column, under Colonels Somerset and Richardson, consisting of the 7th Dragoon Guards (the "Old Black Horse," as they loved to be styled) and the remaining troops of the Mounted Rifles, with a half-battery of artillery, advanced towards the Seven Kloof Mountain, and, passing along its base, marched in the direction of Chumie Hoek. The troop of the "C.M.R.," to which Tom Flinders was attached, was with the centre column, which was led by Major Armstrong, with Major Sutton as his second in command. When at length, after a toilsome climb up a steep mountain path winding amongst patches of bush and rocky boulders, Major Armstrong's horsemen reached the summit of the Seven Kloof Mountain, they beheld a strong body of Caffres drawn up in the shape of a crescent, with a dense forest in their rear and their front protected by a tangled mass of brushwood and swamp, apparently impracticable for cavalry. At the same time the incessant rattle of musketry in the Amatola Basin below told them that Campbell's infantry were hotly engaged with the enemy. "They seem to be having a pretty warm time of it down there," observed Tom to his friend B--. "You're right, Flinders," the other replied. "And I can tell you those fellows yonder will give us a warm time of it _up here_. Hark to the yelling savages! 'Pon my word, they're no--" "No worse than `Santerre's sans culottes,'" Tom broke in with a sly laugh, as he called to mind his friend's previous remarks anent the "noble savage." "I never meant to say that they were," retorted B--; "so none of your chaff, my boy! But they are very fiends for all that, and Heaven help the poor fellows who fall into their hands! For my part, I'd rather be shot fifty times over than be taken alive by Sandilli's warriors." "Oh, I don't know," Tom carelessly replied. "`While there's life there's hope,' as old Brownjohn used to say." "Old Brownjohn, whoever he may be, wouldn't have much hope left in him if he once fell into a Caffre's clutches," was B--'s dry remark. "In a warfare like this our motto should be that of Napoleon's old guard--`We die, but we do not surrender!' Here comes Major Armstrong. I wonder if he intends to attack the enemy's position?"