d very intermittently, mostly from
their Long Tom far back, which our big guns kept feeling for. I never
heard anything like the report of these big guns of ours and the shriek
of the shells as they went on their way.

After the cannonade had been kept up for a bit, the infantry began their
advance. This was, I think, the finest performance I have seen in the
whole campaign. The Gordons did it; the Dargai battalion. They came up,
line by line, behind our ridge and lay down along with us. Then, at the
word "Advance," the front line got up and walked quietly down the slope,
and away towards the opposite hill, walking in very open order, with
gaps of about fifteen yards between the men. A moment or two would pass.
Then when the front line had gone about fifty yards, the "Advance" would
again be repeated, and another line of kilted men would lift themselves
leisurely up and walk off. So on, line behind line, they went on their
way, while we watched them, small dark figures clearly seen on the white
grass, through our glasses with a painful interest. Before they had
reached half way across, the vicious, dull report, a sort of double
"crick-crack," of the Mausers began. Our guns were raining shrapnel
along the enemy's position, shooting steady and fast to cover the
Gordons' advance; but the Boers, especially when it comes to endurance,
are dogged fellows. They see our infantry coming, and nothing will move
them till they have had their shot. Soon we can see the little puffs of
dust round the men, that mark where the bullets are striking. All the
further side, up the long gradual slope to the Boer rocks, has been
burnt black and bare, and the bullets, cutting through the cinders,
throw up spots of dust, that show white against the black. Men here and
there stagger and fall. It is hard to see whether they fall from being
hit, or whether it is to shoot themselves. The fire gets faster and
faster, our guns thunder, and through the drifting smoke of the veldt
fires we can still see the Gordons moving onward. Then among the
looking-out group, crouched near the guns, goes a little gasp and mutter
of excitement. We catch on the black background, glistening in the sun,
the quick twinkle of a number of little steel points. They are fixing
bayonets! Now the little figures move quicker. They make for the left
side of the ridge. A minute more, and along the sky-line we see them
appear, a few at first, then more and more. They swing to the