darkness.  The half company in support was taken up, the two companies at the foot were reached by some, when a heavy fire flashed out of the darkness on both sides.  The Boers, evidently by a preconcerted scheme, were crowding in from Thornhill’s farm on our left—­Mr. Thornhill, by the way, was acting as our guide—­and from Bell’s farm on our right.  They came creeping along the dongas, right into the midst of our men, as well as cutting off retreat.  Then it was that we wanted that quarter of an hour lost by the fuse.  The men hastily formed up into their four companies and began the retirement in succession.  Each company had simply to fight its way through with the sword-bayonet.  They did not fire much, chiefly for fear of hitting each other, which unfortunately happened in some cases.  The Boers took less precaution, and kept up a tremendous fire from both flanks, many of the bullets probably hitting their own men.  Under shelter of the dongas some got right among our companies and fired from a few yards’ distance.

Then came the horror of a war between two nations familiar with the same language.  “Second R.B.!  Second R.B.!” shouted our fellows as a watchword and rallying-cry.  “Second R.B.!” shouted every Boer who was challenged or came into danger.  “B Company here!” cried an officer.  “B Company here!” came the echo from the Dutch.  “Where’s Captain Paley?” asked a private.  “Where’s Captain Paley?” the question passed from Boer to Boer.  In the darkness it was impossible to distinguish friend from foe.  The only way was to stoop down till you saw the edge of a broad-brimmed hat.  Then you drove your bayonet through the man, if he did not shoot you first.  Many a poor fellow was shot down by some invisible figure who was talking to him in English and was taken for a friend.  One Boer fired upon a private at two or three yards—­and missed him!  The private sprang upon him.  “I surrender!  I surrender!” cried the Boer, throwing down his rifle.  “So do I,” cried the private, and plunged his bayonet through the man’s stomach and out at his back.

One by one the companies cut their way into the open ground by the railway, and to Observation Hill, where the enemy dare not pursue.  By half-past three a.m. the greater part were back at Leicester Post again.  It was a triumph, even for the Rifle Brigade:  as fine and gallant an achievement as could be done.  But the cost was heavy.

Eleven were dead, including one or perhaps two officers.  Six are prisoners.  Forty-three are wounded, some severely.  The ambulance was out all the morning bringing them in.  Again they complained that the Boers fired on them and wanted to keep them prisoners.  Nothing has so embittered our troops against the enemy as this continual firing on the wounded and hospitals.  It was sad in any case to see the stretchers coming home this morning.  Meeting a covered dhoolie, I asked the bearers who was in it.  “Captain Paley,” they said, and put him down for water.