of
dawn is 4.45 a.m.

"May we go off now on our own?" is the question asked.

"All right; off you go!" is the cheery answer from Colonel Park.

The Devons had the furthest to go, perhaps one and a half miles to reach
the far side of the laager. The Royal Irish were already at the foot of
the hill on the top of which was the position assigned to them.

Two of the Rifle Brigade companies had unfortunately missed connection
and had gone off into the "Ewigkeit" in the dark, but one company was
ready and handy to the Nek which they had to occupy, to fill up the gap
between the Devons and the Royal Irish.

The Devons, who by this time were well together, started off, Captain
Travers with a guide leading. He had orders to take on with him the two
first companies, the guide showing him where to place his men. On they
went, running and walking, walking and running, up the slippery road,
across the Nek and then down into the valley below. Two small groups of
men were posted in the ditch leading up to the Nek.

As the last man reached the knoll overlooking the Nek at the place where
the main road crossed it, and which was the right of the Devons'
allotment of position, the two leading companies could be heard down in
the valley below stumbling amongst the stones, getting into a position
that would entirely cut off the Boers' retreat down the main road
leading north.

[Illustration: Mission Camp Fort, Lydenburg]

Suddenly all was still: everything was ready. It was exactly 4.45 a.m.

All lay down and waited in breathless silence for the coming dawn. The
Devons had orders to withhold their fire as long as possible, to make
sure of the other units being in their places. "That's the position of
the laager, just behind that little knoll," whispered an intelligence
scout; "but it seems as if the bird has flown."

[Illustration: Mission Camp Fort, Lydenburg (Interior)]

For some ten minutes the silence continued, with not so much as the
crack of a twig to interrupt it. What's that? It's a cock crowing! There
it is again! There's another! The laager's there right enough, and we've
got them!

In the far distance, Lydenburg way, the faint noise of musketry fire
could be heard; it was the mounted troops advancing and driving in the
Boer picquets on the road above the Spekboom Bridge, eight miles back.

In about five minutes' time the laager was roused by a Boer, who
commenced swearing roundly at some one in a very loud voice.