,
the enemy, taken completely by surprise, having only just time to jump
on their horses and gallop off. Getting the 'cow-gun' over the pass,
however, was no easy matter, but it was eventually accomplished, and
after a march of about sixteen miles, the force halted for the night
in rather a pretty camp, on a farm known as Hartebeestfontein.

[Illustration: 4.7 Crossing a Drift, assisted by the Dublin
Fusiliers.]

The column marched to Klip River, about seventeen miles, next day,
arriving there about 5 p.m. The rearguard was sniped at the whole way
by our friends of the day before, but without effecting much damage.
A cavalry brigade under Brigadier-General Gordon was here on our
arrival, and an exchange of troops took place, we receiving some Greys
and Carabineers in exchange for half a battalion of South Wales
Borderers.

A halt was now made for a day, most of us taking the opportunity to
get a bathe in the river.

Leaving Klip River on the morning of the 20th, we marched back in the
direction whence we had come two days before, and were soon engaged
with the enemy's snipers, of whom we captured one; but they had the
best of the argument, as they killed two of our column. One of these
poor fellows had very bad luck: he had received a letter at Klip River
only the day before, telling him he had come into a sum of money,
sufficient to enable him to retire and spend the remainder of his days
in peace and quiet.

Nor was the day to prove uneventful for the rest of us. About 1 p.m.
it began to cloud over, and presently to rain; this soon turned into
hail, of the variety which one is accustomed to at home. This was at
first refreshing, and one would pick up the cool hailstones--they were
about as big as peas--and eat them, and the rattle they made on the
helmets was quite musical. When they grew to the size of gooseberries,
and began to sting, they provided less amusement, shoulders being
shrugged up and necks arched to obtain as much protection as possible.
The unfortunate dogs, of which a variety invariably turned up with
every column, howled with pain, and the cattle and horses grew very
restive. But soon the stones, driven by a gale of wind, increased to
the size of cherries and strawberries, with occasional jagged lumps of
ice an inch in diameter. As there seemed no particular reason why they
should not run through the whole gamut of the orchard, and rival
plums, peaches, and melons, and as there was no earthly c