Some seventy or eighty mounted men had attacked the Boers in possession of Carter’s Farm (which had been re-taken), and had carried the Farm in the face of a withering fire from the enemy—­who fell back upon a stronger position.  Nothing daunted, our men brought up their guns and prepared to repeat their success.  The Boers resisted fiercely, but were eventually driven back to a third line of defence.  Night was rapidly descending, but this notwithstanding, the Light Horse were ordered to complete their victory.  It was in this last rush that their daring leader was struck down.  The third position was actually taken; but the disappearance of the light rather handicapped the gunners.  The enemy was re-inforced, and the remnants of the Light Horse were obliged to evacuate the ground that had cost them so much.

These are the bare facts of the affair—­the facts which came to light.  Contradictory opinions as to whether there had been a blunder were freely expressed.  On the conflicting theories advanced I refrain from commenting.  It did not, for the moment, concern the people at large upon whose shoulders the blame rested.  Twenty-four dead! and Scott-Turner one of them.  Seventeen of the number had been well-known and respected citizens.  The Diamond Fields’ Advertiser commented on the fight as a “triumph” for British arms.  This point was, to put it mildly, debatable.  The feeling uppermost in the mind of the plain man was that nothing had been accomplished that could compensate for the loss of so many brave men.  The consoler who argued that the losses on the other side exceeded ours did not console.  Nor did the vapourings of him who prated of what we, acting in conjunction with the Column, would presently give the Boers.  The disaster enkindled a distrust of the military which remained inextinguishable to the end.  Wherefore the need of risking so many lives, at such a moment, with a Column outside, on its way to set us free?  That the critics—­and they were legion—­should search for motives was inevitable; and the tactics of the military were promptly attributed to a desire for glory (here below).  This may have been an erroneous, a wild conclusion; but it was jumped to with great satisfaction.  Theoretically, the idea of getting in touch with the approaching troops was good; but it was a premature effort—­how awfully premature we knew at last.  Our defenders were few enough to defend the perimiter of the city.  How were we to hold the positions we had sought to get possession of?  To this and much more (after the event) the public demanded an answer.  They asked in vain; for under the “Resolute Government” of Martial Law, public opinion is an Irishism.

The funerals made a most impressive spectacle.  The troops and Volunteers with the bands of their respective regiments headed the cortege.  There was profound sadness in the faces of the vast assemblage that crowded the streets.  The twenty-four coffins were lowered into the graves, amid a solemn silence broken now and then by the Ministers of religion who read the burial services.  It was an awe-inspiring scene, that will be long remembered in the Diamond City.