behind a range of kopjes we dropped shells in the middle of it; wherever a cluster of Boers showed themselves for a second a shell sought them out.  No matter how well they were placed, they must have had a lively time of it.  During the Sabbath they scarcely used their guns at all, but they opened on our troops with rifle fire as soon as they made a forward move at any part of the line, showing clearly that they were watching as well as praying.  The day closed without incident of any particular character; we had a few wounded, but no deaths, and could form no idea how the Boers were faring.  Now and again during the night one or another of our guns would bark like sullen watchdogs on the chain, but the Boer guns were still.

Monday morning broke crisp and clear, and once more the big-gun duel began, only on this occasion the Boers made great use of a pom-pom gun This spiteful little demon tossed its diminutive shells into camp with painful freeness.  They knocked three of the Worcesters over early in the day, killing two and badly damaging the other.  As on all other occasions in this peculiar engagement, the Boer gunnery was simply superb; but their shells were worthless.  Shells grew so common that the “Tommies” scarcely ducked when they heard the report of a gun they knew was trying to reach them, but smoked their pipes and made irreverent remarks concerning things made in Germany.  About midday a party of Boers, who had somehow dodged round to our rear, made a dashing attempt to raid some cattle that were grazing close under our eyes; but they had to vanish in a hurry, and were particularly lucky in being able to escape with their lives, for a party of scouts darted out after them at full gallop on one side, whilst another party of mounted infantry rode as hard as hoofs could carry them on the other side of the bold raiders.  They unslung their rifles as they dashed across the veldt, and the Boers soon knew that the fellows behind them were as much at home as they were themselves at that kind of business.

Late on Monday evening the Boers located a little to the left of our centre moved forward a bit.  Though with infinite caution, and commenced sniping with the rifle.  It was an evidence that they were growing weary of our tactics, and would greatly have liked us to attempt to rush their position with the bayonet, so that they could have mowed our fellows down in hundreds.  But this General Rundle wisely declined to do; it was victory, not glory, he was seeking, and he was wise enough to know that a victory can be bought at far too high a price in country of this kind against a foe like the wily Boer.  On Sunday night our strength was augmented by the arrival of three regiments of the Guards, and on Monday night we, knew for a certainty that General French was close at hand.  The Boer was between two fires, and he would need all his “slimness” to pull him out of trouble.  During a greater part of the night our guns continued to rob sleep of its sweetness,