they had scored, and thus we parted.

I afterwards learned that the Boer ambulances removed twenty-seven of
their wounded. The condition of the others was too serious to allow of
their being moved, and in spite of every attention they all died while
in our hands.

When I rejoined the South African Light Horse the Irregular Brigade had
begun to advance again. Major Gough's Composite Regiment had scouted the
distant ridge and found it unoccupied. Now Dundonald moved his whole
command thither, and with his staff climbed to the top. But to our
disappointment Ladysmith was not to be seen. Two or three other ridges
hung like curtains before us. The afternoon had passed, and it was
already after six o'clock. The Boer artillery was still firing, and it
seemed rash to attempt to reconnoitre further when the ground was broken
and the light fading.

The order was given to retire and the movement had actually begun when
a messenger came back from Gough with the news that the last ridge
between us and the town was unoccupied by the enemy, that he could see
Ladysmith, and that there was, for the moment, a clear run in. Dundonald
immediately determined to go on himself into the town with the two
squadrons who were scouting in front, and to send the rest of the
brigade back to camp. He invited me to accompany him, and without delay
we started at a gallop.

Never shall I forget that ride. The evening was deliciously cool. My
horse was strong and fresh, for I had changed him at midday. The ground
was rough with many stones, but we cared little for that. Beyond the
next ridge, or the rise beyond that, or around the corner of the hill,
was Ladysmith--the goal of all our hopes and ambitions during weeks of
almost ceaseless fighting. Ladysmith--the centre of the world's
attention, the scene of famous deeds, the cause of mighty
efforts--Ladysmith was within our reach at last. We were going to be
inside the town within an hour. The excitement of the moment was
increased by the exhilaration of the gallop. Onward wildly, recklessly,
up and down hill, over the boulders, through the scrub, Hubert Gough
with his two squadrons, Mackenzie's Natal Carabineers and the Imperial
Light Horse, were clear of the ridges already. We turned the shoulder of
a hill, and there before us lay the tin houses and dark trees we had
come so far to see and save.

The British guns on Caesar's Camp were firing steadily in spite of the
twilight. What was happening? N