ith a thin line of riflemen with machine guns,
and had thrown the rest of his force on Jacobsdal and the east, he would
probably have attained the same result. Now at the rumour of English
upon his flank Cronje instantly abandoned his position and his plans,
in order to restore those communications with Bloemfontein upon which he
depended for his supplies. With furious speed he drew in his right wing,
and then, one huge mass of horsemen, guns, and wagons, he swept through
the gap between the rear of the British cavalry bound for Kimberley and
the head of the British infantry at Klip Drift. There was just room
to pass, and at it he dashed with the furious energy of a wild beast
rushing from a trap. A portion of his force with his heavy guns had gone
north round Kimberley to Warrenton; many of the Freestaters also had
slipped away and returned to their farms. The remainder, numbering about
six thousand men, the majority of whom were Transvaalers, swept through
between the British forces.

This movement was carried out on the night of February 15th, and had it
been a little quicker it might have been concluded before we were aware
of it. But the lumbering wagons impeded it, and on the Friday morning,
February 16th, a huge rolling cloud of dust on the northern veld, moving
from west to east, told our outposts at Klip Drift that Cronje's army
had almost slipped through our fingers. Lord Kitchener, who was in
command at Klip Drift at the moment, instantly unleashed his mounted
infantry in direct pursuit, while Knox's brigade sped along the northern
bank of the river to cling on to the right haunch of the retreating
column. Cronje's men had made a night march of thirty miles from
Magersfontein, and the wagon bullocks were exhausted. It was impossible,
without an absolute abandonment of his guns and stores, for him to get
away from his pursuers.

This was no deer which they were chasing, however, but rather a grim
old Transvaal wolf, with his teeth flashing ever over his shoulder.
The sight of those distant white-tilted wagons fired the blood of every
mounted infantryman, and sent the Oxfords, the Buffs, the West Ridings,
and the Gloucesters racing along the river bank in the glorious virile
air of an African morning. But there were kopjes ahead, sown with fierce
Dopper Boers, and those tempting wagons were only to be reached over
their bodies. The broad plain across which the English were hurrying was
suddenly swept with a st