ed that it had been left to
its fate. As early as nine a heliogram had been sent to them to retire
as the opportunity served, but to leave the hill was certainly to court
annihilation.

The men had then been under fire for six hours, and with their losses
mounting and their cartridges dwindling, all hope had faded from their
minds. But still for another hour, and yet another, and yet another,
they held doggedly on. Nine and a half hours they clung to that pile
of stones. The Fusiliers were still exhausted from the effect of their
march from Glencoe and their incessant work since. Many fell asleep
behind the boulders. Some sat doggedly with their useless rifles
and empty pouches beside them. Some picked cartridges off their dead
comrades. What were they fighting for? It was hopeless, and they knew
it. But always there was the honour of the flag, the glory of the
regiment, the hatred of a proud and brave man to acknowledge defeat. And
yet it had to come. There were some in that force who were ready for
the reputation of the British army, and for the sake of an example
of military virtue, to die stolidly where they stood, or to lead the
'Faugh-a-ballagh' boys, or the gallant 28th, in one last death-charge
with empty rifles against the unseen enemy. They may have been right,
these stalwarts. Leonidas and his three hundred did more for the Spartan
cause by their memory than by their living valour. Man passes like the
brown leaves, but the tradition of a nation lives on like the oak that
sheds them--and the passing of the leaves is nothing if the bole be the
sounder for it. But a counsel of perfection is easy at a study table.
There are other things to be said--the responsibility of officers for
the lives of their men, the hope that they may yet be of service to
their country. All was weighed, all was thought of, and so at last the
white flag went up. The officer who hoisted it could see no one unhurt
save himself, for all in his sangar were hit, and the others were
so placed that he was under the impression that they had withdrawn
altogether. Whether this hoisting of the flag necessarily compromised
the whole force is a difficult question, but the Boers instantly left
their cover, and the men in the sangars behind, some of whom had not
been so seriously engaged, were ordered by their officers to desist from
firing. In an instant the victorious Boers were among them.

It was not, as I have been told by those who were there,