For the last few weeks we have been cruising about over the veldt from one little British fort to another with our huge fleet of waggons, doling out supplies.  During this time we have been fighting more or less, I think, every day.  Perhaps you would hardly call it fighting; long-range sniping the greater part of it.  Out of our 250 mounted men we have had some half-dozen casualties only, and we have accounted for a dozen or so of the enemy and a few prisoners.  They have the advantage of their intimate knowledge of the country.  We have the advantage of a pompom and two 15-pounders.  These are invaluable in keeping the Boers at a respectful distance.  It is rather satisfactory to plump some shrapnel on to a group of waiting, watching Boers three miles off, who are just concocting in their sinful hearts some scheme for getting a shot at you; or to lay a necklace of exploding pompom shells among some rocks where you guess they are hiding.  “There, my boys, take that, and I hope you enjoy it,” I feel inclined to say.  You will understand that the side that has no guns at this game is apt to look rather silly.  Rimington has initiated an entirely new use for guns.  They are used now with the Scouts.  Instead of remaining with the column, where they would never be of the slightest use, he takes them right out to the limits of his flankers or advance or rear guard, or wherever there is most need of them.  So that when these scattered skirmishers get engaged, as they are constantly doing, instead of having to extricate themselves as they best can from an awkward corner, and being followed up and hampered and pressed as they keep up with the column, they know that in about two minutes they will hear the voice of one of the 15-pounders or the indignant pompom speaking on their behalf, and that the pressure will be immediately relieved.  I am sure that the use made of these guns has saved us a number of casualties, besides inflicting loss on the enemy.  It isn’t very orthodox, I fancy, and I have noticed officers of the column rather stare sometimes at the sight of these volatile guns of ours careering away in the distance, but with the Colonel this is only another reason for using them so.  At the same time the pertinacity of these Dutchmen is really remarkable, and the instant the guns limber up, on they come, darting round corners and creeping upon us with a zeal that never seems to diminish.

The work falls chiefly on front and rear guards, but perhaps mainly on the rear, as the difficulty of retiring is usually greater than advancing; i.e., if the advance guard gets pressed, all they have to do is to sit tight and the natural advance of the column will bring them up supports.  But when the rear guard gets engaged, the advance of the main column tends to leave it stranded; it is bound to keep on retiring to avoid this, and retiring under fire is a difficult and dangerous job.  The Boers, who have an instinctive knowledge how to make themselves most disagreeable, of course know all about this susceptibility of a rearguard, and there are always sure to be a number of them sniffing about in that direction.  “Where are you to-day?” “Rearguard.”  “Oh! Good-bye, then!” was the farewell given to a rearguard officer this morning.