The few khakies who surrendered at the reef we first disarmed, and then we allowed them to seek cover behind the rocks from the bullets of their friends.  From that position we could see the enemy from the rear.  In the narrow road, at a distance of about 150 paces from us, stood an ammunition waggon with splendid horses harnessed in it; there was no room for them to turn to draw away the waggon.  A few khakies showed themselves next to the waggon, but were immediately shot down.  A little further on an ambulance waggon, also inspanned, stood against the kopje; one could distinctly see how the empty litter was carried up and brought down again with some of the wounded.  Once a man walked next to the litter as it was carried down; I pointed him out to my brother, as I suspected his motive.  I was right.  Just by the ambulance waggon he disappeared in a donga leading to the valley.  My brother, who was a little higher up the reef than I was, could not hit him, as he appeared again only for a moment.  He was most likely a despatch-rider who went to warn the guard at Commandonek to retreat.

Further on there were some horses to be seen, and a little further still the small tents of which the camps consisted.  We kept up a constant fire, but the enemy seemed to have sufficient cover on the kopje—­and they were very obstinate.  For some time the firing from the shoulders of the pass ceased, and in the dark shadow between the high mountains we for a moment had the feeling that we had been deserted by our men—­only for a moment, for we knew it could not be!  The game was in our hands.

The sun sank lower, and we felt if the enemy were not soon compelled, to surrender they would escape in the dark.  There was still one position which must be taken—­the last reef, to which most of the enemy had retired from the position we now occupied.  One of our men, therefore, let the other six fire a salvo at the kopje, and ran as hard as he could to a rock at a distance of twenty-five paces ahead, about halfway to the last reef.  But now both the enemy and our own burghers, under Commandant Coetzee, fired at him so persistently that he was thankful to reach the rock.  He lay there as still as possible, with his gaze fixed on the reef—­as he lay without cover on that side.  It was a most critical moment.

Fortunately he heard, almost at once, one of his comrades, Van Zulch, call out ‘Oh, the white flag!  Hullo, the white flag!’ and he saw them climbing down.  He lay still a moment longer to convince himself of the fact, and then calmly went to the last reef, where many khakies surrendered—­and he descended with them.  Now the rest of the burghers came running along from all directions to disarm the enemy in the dusk—­and to take what booty there was to be had.  In their eagerness to get as much booty as possible, they allowed an officer, Major Scobel, to escape.