e one
body lay a Rifleman's haversack, an eloquent if speechless travesty on
the fortunes of war, for undoubtedly they were the remains of Boers,
over whose head a chance shrapnel must have burst months before.

A similar reconnaissance, but in the opposite direction, was made next
day, resulting in one man being wounded. Convoys were also passing to
and fro, and on the 2nd, Captain Fetherstonhaugh took over the duties
of provost-marshal, temporarily, from Captain Thompson, of the
Somersetshire Light Infantry, who had hurt his knee. Rumours of an
early move also began to circulate, with the Losberg, the grim and
solitary hill rising out of the plain to the south of the Gatsrand, as
our probable destination. For some time past the Boers had used it as
a sort of headquarters and rallying-place for their frequent raiding
parties. Columns were now converging on it from all points of the
compass, but as they could be plainly seen from its summit, the high
hopes entertained in some quarters of rounding up a large number of
the enemy were not shared by everybody.

Yet the start at 9 p.m. on the 3rd was sufficiently impressive. The
officers were assembled, and had their several duties clearly pointed
out to them, one peak of the hill being assigned to the South Wales
Borderers and the other to the Dublin Fusiliers. To 'A' company of the
latter regiment, under Major English, was given the honour of leading
the attack, which was to be made at dawn next morning. Silently and
with all due precautions the column slowly wound its way down the
pass, like some gigantic boa-constrictor, and out on to the plain
below. Whenever a farm was reached it was entered, and steps taken to
prevent lights being shown or signals flashed: three Boers, booted and
spurred, being taken in one. It was a perfect night for marching, all
Nature hushed in deep repose save the loud-mouthed bull-frog; the moon
set an hour before dawn, reminding one of Whyte-Melville's line:

'The darkest hour of all the night is that which brings the day.'

But dark as it was our objective could be seen ominously looming up--a
lamp-black mass against the velvet softness of starlit sky. The
movement had been admirably timed, and as day broke the two regiments
advanced to the attack, the South Wales Borderers on the right, the
Dublins on the left, while the artillery opened fire against the
hillside between the two summits. But that was all. Not a shot was
fired in return.