illy"
made some splendid shots close to our little mess and burst the tanks at
Taylor's mineral water works. In the wet afternoon the big gun's work
was less dignified. He threw five shrapnel over the cattle licking up
what little grass was left on the flat, and did not kill a single cow.

The guides boast that to-day they killed one Boer by strategy used for
tigers in India. Two or three of them went out to Star Kopje and loosed
two miserable old ponies, driving them towards the Boer lines to graze.
A Boer or two came for the prize and one was shot dead.

At night the flash signals from Colenso were very brilliant on a black
and cloudy sky. They only said, "Dearest love from your own Nance," or
"Baby sends kisses," but the Bulwan searchlight tried hard to thwart
their affectionate purpose by waving his ray quickly up and down across
the flashing beam.

_January 5, 1900._

There was little to mark the day beyond the steady shelling of snipers
by the Natal Navals, and a great 96lb. shell from Bulwan which plunged
through a Kaffir house, where black labourers live stuffed together,
took off a Kaffir's foot, ricocheted over our little mess-room, just
glancing off the roof, and fell gasping, but still entire, beside our
verandah. I rode up to Caesar's Camp in the morning sun. It was a scene
of sleepy peace, only broken by the faint interest of watching where the
shells burst in the town far below.

CHAPTER XVI

THE GREAT ATTACK

_January 6, 1900._

It has been a commonplace of the war that the Boers could cling to a
position of their own choosing from behind stones, but would never
venture to attack a position or fight in the open. Like all the
comforting commonplaces about the Boers, this is now overthrown. The
untrained, ill-equipt farmers have to-day assaulted positions of
extraordinary strength, have renewed the attack again and again, have
rushed up to breastworks, and died at the rifle's mouth, and have only
been repulsed after fifteen hours of hard and gallant fighting on the
part of the defence.

Waggon Hill is a long, high spur of Caesar's Camp, running out south-west
between Long Valley and Bester's Farm. At the extremity, as I have
described, are the great gun-pits prepared for "Lady Anne" and a Naval
12-pounder some weeks ago. "Lady Anne" was for the second time being
brought up into position there last night, and ought to have been fixed
the night before, but was stopped half-way