and marked off the distances, picked off every man within sight.  Our men returned the fire as best they could, but in less than ten minutes 120 were either killed or wounded, besides a large proportion of the oxen in the waggons shot.  The officers who exposed themselves were picked off almost immediately by the Boer marksmen.  Captain Nairne, Lieutenant M’Sweeney, Lieutenant and Adjutant Harrison, Lieutenant Hume, Deputy-Assistant Commissary-General Barter, Conductor Egerton, Surgeon Ward, were all wounded, besides Colonel Anstruther himself, who was shot in two or three places.

It was useless to contend against such odds, and the ‘cease fire’ was sounded, and handkerchiefs waved to denote submission.  During this unequal struggle, Mrs. Smith, the widow of the bandmaster of the regiment, who, with the wife of Sergeant-Major Fox and some children, were riding in one of the foremost waggons, came fearlessly up to where the wounded lay, and, tearing strips from her clothing, helped the surgeon to bandage the wounds.  The sergeant-major’s wife was severely wounded, as was also Fox himself.  There was no lack of heroism during those awful ten minutes, whilst men were being shot down like dogs.  Lieutenant Harrison was shot through the head while cheering on his men; Lieutenant Hume was equally conspicuous for his coolness.  An orderly-room clerk named Maistre and the Sergeant-Master-Tailor Pears quietly concealed the regimental colours in a waggon-box when they saw the danger of them falling into the hands of the enemy; and their work was not in vain, as Conductor Egerton managed subsequently to wrap them round his body under his tunic, and having obtained permission after the fight was over to walk to Pretoria for medical assistance, he carried them safely to the capital, as well as the disastrous news of the engagement.  Forty-two miles traversed by a wounded man on foot in eleven hours is in itself a feat worth mentioning, and one the value of which can only be really estimated by those who know what South African roads are in the rainy seasons.

As soon as our force surrendered, Franz Joubert, who had been in command of the Boers, and who, it is said, fired the first shot, with the exclamation, ‘What is the use of waiting?’ came forward with some of his men, and on finding poor Colonel Anstruther severely wounded expressed sorrow.

Whether the affair of Bronkhorst Spruit can be called an act of treachery on the part of the Boers is rather a nice question.  Colonel Anstruther’s words—­the words of a dying man—­rather go to prove that he was unfairly treated, though he does not say so directly.  He was given to understand by the messenger who came with the flag of truce that another communication would be made to him as soon as his reply to the request to halt had been reported to the Boer Commandant.  The only reply given him was ‘a murderous volley.’  The Boers cannot lay claim to much bravery or superiority (except in numbers)