As through Umlatoosi we splashed on our way:
With twilight there came a fresh breeze sweeping by,
And the bright stars peeped forth from the darkening sky.
At moonrise Fort Marshall lay close on the right,
And still my stout galloper sped through the night,
With nostrils dilated, stretched neck, and clenched teeth,
While his hoofs dashed the dew from the grass underneath
In ceaseless, monotonous, regular beat,
Till Sandwhlana lay steeped in white mist at my feet.
Rorke’s Drift and the Buffalo River were nigh,