ng ground, monopolising the
attention of the Boer gunners as they unlimber.

The gunners jump from their seats sharp as sailors, unhook the
limbers, leaving the guns pointed towards the enemy. Then the drivers
trot off about fifteen yards, wheel round, and sit motionless on their
horses, facing the fire. One cannot but admire the courage required to
sit coolly like that with nothing to do but watch the enemy firing
deliberately at them--see the discharge, and then await the arrival of
the shell as it comes whirring and hurtling through the air. With what
critical interest they must watch improvement in the enemy's
shell-bowling! One was forcibly reminded of cricket bowling at
Elandslaagte. Many of the shells did not burst, and those that were
not full-pitched came in the manner of swift bowling along the
rounded, almost flat-topped surface of the rising ground; and these
gunners sat as steady as if they were the wickets just stuck in the
ground, with never a duck of the head or a blink of the eye. The men
working the guns are kept busy all the time, and have no time to think
of or watch the enemy's shells; but the drivers have nothing to do but
wait and watch. The horses, with still heaving foam-streaked sides,
stand panting and tossing their heads. The Boers have got the position
of our batteries accurately, as it must have been previously obvious
that it was the one we would have taken up. Three of the gunners have
already been badly hit; immediately after, with a terrific crash, a
shell hits an ammunition-waggon fair. Those around hold their breath
for a still greater explosion, but, wonderful to say, the ammunition
does not explode. When the dust has cleared, however, the wheel of the
waggon is found smashed to matchwood, and the vehicle lies helpless
and useless on its side. But still steady as rocks sit the drivers
facing the music. This is courage--the real article--and the market
price of this kind of British pluck is one and twopence a day!

Three days later I was photographing these boys behind their guns on
the hill at Rietfontein, standing just as quietly under a hot rifle
fire at 1200 yards' range, which the enemy kept up persistently,
although we had silenced their guns and actually set fire to a long
line of grass on the hill from which they were firing. An innocent,
harmless-looking hill it seemed, with not a Boer visible on it, yet
the bright summer air simply sang with the notes of Mauser
bullets--cl