are tens of thousands in the vigour of their
youth and strength now panting and longing for the opportunity to become
such as these.

"Oh, Kershaw. Guess the British'll bust our centre right now. They're
coming right through the river."

It was the voice of the American. Chewing a cigar in the corner of his
mouth, he was calmly and unconcernedly taking his notes, while keenly
watching each new development of the day. Colvin, following his glance,
could make out a crowd of forms in the river bed some distance down.
Then the rattle of rifle-fire became one long deafening roll, as all the
energies of the Republican forces, anywhere within reasonable range,
became concentrated on this new attempt. But the result he could not
determine. The whole thing had more than begun to bewilder him. His
ears were deafened by the unintermittent roll and crackle, his eyes dim
and dizzy with watching, or trying to watch, the movements of both lines
of striving combatants. He heard Andries Botma give orders, and then
saw a great mass of mounted Boers, stealthily keeping cover as far as
possible, dash forth and pour volley after volley into the waggons and
trek-animals of the opposing force; hanging on the outskirts of the
latter, with the result of throwing it for the while into hideous
confusion. He saw frightful sights of dying men, mangled and
shell-ripped; but by then his susceptibilities were blunted, the whole
world seemed changed into a hell. The voice of his American friend
again aroused him.

"Mind me, Kershaw. Next time you come to view this sample of scrimmage,
you get something to do. You got nothing to report for, and of course
you can't shoot at other English, so it's bound to get on your nerves."

"There's something in what you say, Acton," replied Colvin. "There's a
sort of passive helpless feeling about it all to me. I seem to realise
what the ambulance people's work is like; but even they have work. Now
I have nothing but to sit and look on."

"Pity," said the other. "But we haven't got the best ground. Too much
near the end of the line. Well, it's no great matter. I'll make it all
read beautiful," glancing with pride down his columns of notes. "You
have a cigar?"

"Thanks," lighting up the weed. "But--what's on now?"

They were, as the American had said, near the end of the line. Now they
could see, confusedly, and in the distance, that the British were in and
through the river, forcing the