Louis Botha with his commando is said to have ridden sixty miles in order to join the forces of Grobler and Oppermann, and overwhelm the British column.  It may have been the presence of their commander or a desire to have vengeance for the harrying which they had undergone upon the Natal border, but whatever the reason, the Boer attack was made with a spirit and dash which earned the enthusiastic applause of every soldier who survived to describe it.  With the low roar of a great torrent, several hundred horsemen burst through the curtain of mist, riding at a furious pace for the British guns.  The rear screen of Mounted Infantry fell back before this terrific rush, and the two bodies of horsemen came pell-mell down upon the handful of Buffs and the guns.  The infantry were ridden into and surrounded by the Boers, who found nothing to stop them from galloping on to the low ridge upon which the guns were stationed.  This ridge was held by eighty of the Scottish Horse and forty of the Yorkshire M.I., with a few riflemen from the 25th Mounted Infantry.  The latter were the escort of the guns, but the former were the rear screen who had fallen back rapidly because it was the game to do so, but who were in no way shaken, and who instantly dismounted and formed when they reached a defensive position.

These men had hardly time to take up their ground when the Boers were on them.  With that extraordinary quickness to adapt their tactics to circumstances which is the chief military virtue of the Boers, the horsemen did not gallop over the crest, but lined the edge of it, and poured a withering fire on to the guns and the men beside them.  The heroic nature of the defence can be best shown by the plain figures of the casualties.  No rhetoric is needed to adorn that simple record.  There were thirty-two gunners round the guns, and twenty-nine fell where they stood.  Major Guinness was mortally wounded while endeavouring with his own hands to fire a round of case.  There were sixty-two casualties out of eighty among the Scottish Horse, and the Yorkshires were practically annihilated.  Altogether 123 men fell, out of about 160 on the ridge.  ’Hard pounding, gentlemen,’ as Wellington remarked at Waterloo, and British troops seemed as ready as ever to endure it.

The gunners were, as usual, magnificent.  Of the two little bullet-pelted groups of men around the guns there was not one who did not stand to his duty without flinching.  Corporal Atkin was shot down with all his comrades, but still endeavoured with his failing strength to twist the breech-block out of the gun.  Another bullet passed through his upraised hands as he did it.  Sergeant Hayes, badly wounded, and the last survivor of the crew, seized the lanyard, crawled up the trail, and fired a last round before he fainted.  Sergeant Mathews, with three bullets through him, kept steadily to his duty.  Five drivers tried to bring up a limber and remove the gun, but all of them, with all the horses, were hit.  There have been incidents in this war which have not increased our military reputation, but you might search the classical records of valour and fail to find anything finer than the consistent conduct of the British artillery.