ed about on horseback
close in the rear of his men, and appeared to bear a charmed life. The
bullets must have been whizzing past him as thick as flies. Moncrieff
himself tried more than once to bring him down, but all in vain.

During the final assault he was equally conspicuous; he was here, there,
and everywhere, and his voice and appearance, even for a moment, among
them never failed to cause his men to redouble their efforts.

It was not, however, until far on into the night that this last and awful
charge was made.

The savage foe advanced with a wild shout all along the line of rampart
that connected the Moncrieff main _estancia_ with our villa. This was
really our weakest part.

[Illustration: The Indians advanced with a Wild Shout]

The assault was made on horseback. We heard them coming thundering on some
time before we saw them and could fire. They seemed mad, furious; their
tall feather-bedecked spears were waved high in air; they sat like huge
baboons on their high saddles, and their very horses had been imbued with
the recklessness of their riders, and came on bounding and flying over our
frail field of spikes. It was to be all spear work till they came to close
quarters; then they would use their deadly knives.

Hardly had the first sound of the horses' hoofs reached our ears ere one,
two, three rockets left Coila Villa; and scarcely had they exploded in the
air and cast their golden showers of sparks abroad, before the roar of an
explosion was heard high up on the braeland that shook the houses to their
very foundations--and then--there is the awful rush of foaming, seething
water.

Nothing could withstand that unexpected flood; men and horses were floated
and washed away, struggling and helpless, before it.

Just at the time when the last assault was nearly at its grim close I felt
my arm pulled, and looking quickly round found Yambo at my side. He still
clutched me by the arm, but he was waving his blood-stained sword in the
direction of Moncrieff's house, and I could see by the motions of his
mouth and face he wished me to come with him.

Something had occurred, something dreadful surely, and despite the
excitement of battle a momentary cold wave of fear seemed to rush over my
frame.

Sandie Donaldson was near me. This bold big fellow had been everywhere
conspicuous to-night for his bravery. He had fought all through with
extraordinary intrepidity.

Wherever I had glanced that night I had