and the enemy’s pom-pom mingled with our dreams.  On Tuesday morning news came to us that Wepener had been relieved by Brabant and Hart, and that the Boers who had invested that place were drawing off in our direction, so that our right flank needed strengthening.  The Boers displayed no sign of quitting their position, though they must have known that Brabant and Hart would be on their track from the south-east, and General French from the north-west.  They held their ground with a grim stubbornness against overwhelming odds of men and guns, and dropped shells amongst us in a way that made one feel that no spot could be labelled “absolutely safe.”

At about 7 p.m. we sent a force out south, consisting of about 4,000 men, under General Boyes.  Amongst that force were the West Kents, Staffords, Worcesters, Manchesters, all infantry.  The Imperial Yeomanry and mounted infantry also accompanied the expedition.  But there was little for them to do except hold the enemy in check, which they did.  There were some phenomenally close shaves during the day.  On one occasion the enemy got the range of one of our guns with their pom-pom, and the way they dropped the devilish little one-pound shells amongst those gunners was a sight to make a man’s blood run chill The little iron imps fell between the men, grazed the wheels, the carriage, and the truck of the gun; but

          He, watching over Israel, slumbers not nor sleeps.

Nothing short of angel-wings could have kept our fellows safe.  The men knew their deadly peril, knew that the tip of the wand in the Death Angel’s hand was brushing their cheeks.  One could see that they knew their peril.  The hard, firm grip of the jaw, the steady light in the hard-set eyes, the manly pallor on the cheeks, all told of knowledge; yet not once did they lose their heads.  Each fellow stood there as bravely as human flesh and blood could stand, and faced the iron hail with unblenching courage and intrepid coolness.  Had those khaki-clothed warriors been carved out of bronze and moved by machinery, they could not have shown less fear or more perfect discipline.  The pom-pom is a gun which I have been told the British War Office refused as a toy some two years back.  I have had the doubtful pleasure of being under its fire to-day, and all I can say is that I would gladly have given my place to any gentleman in the War Office who happens to hold the notion that the pom-pom is a toy.

Somehow the enemy got hold of the position where General Rundle and staff were located, and all the afternoon they swept the plain in front of the tents, the hills above, and the hill opposite with shells; but they could not quite drop one in the little ravine itself.  Half an hour before sundown I had to ride with two other correspondents to headquarters to get a dispatch away.  We got across safely, but had not been there five minutes before a grandly directed shell sent the General and his staff off the brow of the hill