by the wet.

The Boer attack was probably not merely an attempt on the gun, but on
the position, and the gun is being taken back to her usual position
to-night. Besides the gun-pits, the hill has no defences except a few
low walls, only two or three stones high, piled up at intervals round
the edge, as shelters from long-range fire. The place was held only by
three dismounted squadrons of Imperial Light Horse, but the 1st K.R.R.
(60th) were in support in a large sangar about three-quarters of a mile
along the same ridge, separated from Waggon Hill proper by the low "nek"
where the two howitzers used to stand. From the 60th the ridge turns at
an angle eastward, and becomes the long tableland of Caesar's Camp, held
by the Manchesters and 42nd Battery (Major Goulburn). The top is broad
and flat, covered with grass and loose stones. The whole position
completely overlooks the town to the north, and if it fell into the
enemy's hands we should either have to retake it or quit the camps and
town. The edge measures 4,000 yards, and the Manchesters had only 560
men to hold it.

At a quarter to three a.m., while it was still dark, a small party of
Boer sharpshooters climbed up the further (south-east) face of Waggon
Hill, just left of the "nek." They were picked men who had volunteered
for the exploit. Nearly all came from Harrismith. We had posted a picket
of eight at the point, but long security had made them careless, or else
they were betrayed by a mistake which nearly lost the whole position.
From the edge of the hill the whole face is "dead" ground. It is so
steep that an enemy climbing up it cannot be seen. It was almost a case
of Majuba again.

The Dutch crept up quite unobserved. At last a sentry challenged, and
was answered with "Friend." He was shot dead, and was found with rifle
raised and still loaded. The alarm was given, but no one realised what
had happened. Captain Long (A.S.C.), who was superintending the
transport of "Lady Anne," told me he could not understand how it was
that bullets kept whistling past his nose. He thought the firing was
from our own sentries. But the Dutch had reached the summit, and were
enfilading the "nek" and the whole extremity of the hill from our left.
As light began to dawn it was impossible to show oneself for a moment on
the open top. The furthest range was not over 300 yards, and the top of
a helmet, the corner of an arm, was sufficient aim for those deadly
marksmen. Unable to