er 10th, the force
which was intended to clear a path for the army through the lines of
Magersfontein moved out upon what proved to be its desperate enterprise.
The 3rd or Highland Brigade included the Black Watch, the Seaforths, the
Argyll and Sutherlands, and the Highland Light Infantry. The Gordons had
only arrived in camp that day, and did not advance until next morning.
Besides the infantry, the 9th Lancers, the mounted infantry, and all the
artillery moved to the front. It was raining hard, and the men with one
blanket between two soldiers bivouacked upon the cold damp ground, about
three miles from the enemy's position. At one o'clock, without food, and
drenched, they moved forwards through the drizzle and the darkness to
attack those terrible lines. Major Benson, R.A., with two of Rimington's
scouts, led them on their difficult way.

Clouds drifted low in the heavens, and the falling rain made the
darkness more impenetrable. The Highland Brigade was formed into a
column--the Black Watch in front, then the Seaforths, and the other
two behind. To prevent the men from straggling in the night the four
regiments were packed into a mass of quarter column as densely as was
possible, and the left guides held a rope in order to preserve the
formation. With many a trip and stumble the ill-fated detachment
wandered on, uncertain where they were going and what it was that
they were meant to do. Not only among the rank and file, but among
the principal officers also, there was the same absolute ignorance.
Brigadier Wauchope knew, no doubt, but his voice was soon to be stilled
in death. The others were aware, of course, that they were advancing
either to turn the enemy's trenches or to attack them, but they may well
have argued from their own formation that they could not be near the
riflemen yet. Why they should be still advancing in that dense clump we
do not now know, nor can we surmise what thoughts were passing through
the mind of the gallant and experienced chieftain who walked beside
them. There are some who claim on the night before to have seen upon his
strangely ascetic face that shadow of doom which is summed up in the one
word 'fey.' The hand of coming death may already have lain cold upon his
soul. Out there, close beside him, stretched the long trench, fringed
with its line of fierce, staring, eager faces, and its bristle of
gun-barrels. They knew he was coming. They were ready. They were
waiting. But still, wit