The man whom I usually employed on these occasions was James Taylor who had charge of the horses and who, on this unfortunate morning, was fated to lose his life in that swampy river. Taylor, or Tally-ho, as the other men called him, had been brought up in a hunting stable in England, and was always desirous of going further than I was willing to allow him, relying too much, as it now appeared, on his skill in swimming his horse, which I had often before prevented him from doing. I had on this occasion recalled him from different parts of the river, and determined to use the boat and swim the cattle and horses to the other side, when Tally-ho proposed to swim over on a horse in order to ascertain where the opposite bank was most favourable for the cattle to get out. I agreed to his crossing thus wherever he thought he could; and he rode towards a place which I conceived was by no means the best, and accordingly said so to him. I did not hear his reply, for he was just then riding into the water, and I could no longer see him from where I stood on the edge of a swampy hole. But scarcely a minute had elapsed when Burnett, going on foot to the spot, called out for all the men who could dive, at the same time exclaiming "the man's gone!" The horse came out with the bridle on his neck just as I reached the water's edge, but of poor Tally-ho I saw only the cap floating on the river. Four persons were immediately in the water--Piper, his gin, and two whites--and at six or eight minutes at most Piper brought the body up from the bottom. It was quite warm and immediately almost all the means recommended in such cases were applied by our medical attendant (Drysdale) who, having come from Newcastle-upon-Tyne, had seen many cases of that description. For three hours the animal heat was preserved by chafing the body, and during the whole of that time the lungs were alternately inflated and compressed, but all without success. With a sincerity of grief which must always pervade the breasts of men losing one of their number under such circumstances, we consigned the body of poor Taylor to a deep grave, the doctor having previously laid it out between two large sheets of bark. I was myself confounded with the most heart-felt sorrow when I turned from the grave of poor Tally-ho, never to hear his bugle blast again.* It was late before we commenced the passage of this fatal river which, although apparently narrow, we could only cross in the same manner in which we had passed the largest, namely, by swimming the cattle and horses, and carrying every article of equipment across in the boat. We effected even thus however the passage of the whole party before sunset; and then encamped on the opposite bank.