their fire was directed. Needless to say this
was not an altogether uninteresting proceeding. And so the game went on,
our guns coming into action in grand style. We got in for rather a warm
rifle fire once; we galloped up, dismounted, and advanced to the top of
a kopje which was covered with rather long grass. Buzz-buzz-buzz went
the busy bullets seeking unwilling billets. They came very close there,
snipping the grass tops close beside us. Here there were casualties in
several of the other companies. One of our fellows was shot through the
leg, and Mr. Ashby was knocked on the waist-belt by a spent bullet or
piece of shell and rendered unconscious for some time. Later, in
galloping across an exposed space to occupy another kopje, the captain's
horse was shot under him, as well as several others. I think that is
more than enough of the affair; I have no doubt you know better what
really was done than we. No waggons coming up that night, we had no
rations nor breakfast next day, so you see we do the thing in style, for
we had started the day at four and only had a pannikin of coffee and a
biscuit for breakfast. The next day we heard that the Pretoria Forts had
surrendered and the Boer Forces withdrawn, and the whole army advanced
at last on its final march to Pretoria, and this humble _Ego_, who
months ago at home had thought and talked of this great event, and not
for a moment anticipated participation in the same, formed a modest unit
of the victorious horde. However, that day we (the 7th I.Y.) did not go
into the capital, but camped outside of it. Not to be done, after we had
picketed our horses, I made my way into a Kaffir suburb near us, and did
well at a couple of stores, kept by German Jews, coming back with a sack
of tinned edibles and some Kruger pennies. The next day a friend and I
were lucky, and got leave into Pretoria. We returned to a grateful and
enthusiastic troop, laden with quite a score-and-a-half of loaves, at
six in the evening, and concluded a pleasant day with a high tea (very
high) and a camp-fire sing-song. "Chorus, gentlemen!":

It's 'ard to sye good-bye to yer own native land,
It's 'ard to give the farewell kiss, and parting grip of the 'and,
It's 'ard to leave yer sweetheart, in foreign lands to roam;
But it's 'arder still to sye good-bye to the ole folks at 'ome.

[Illustration: _A Camp Sing Song._ "_They call me the Jewel of Asia._"]

That night we entertained several ex-British s