Who shall blame the Highlanders for retiring when they did?  Viewed, not by desperate and surprised men, but in all calmness and sanity, it may well seem to have been the very best thing which they could do.  Dashed into chaos, separated from their officers, with no one who knew what was to be done, the first necessity was to gain shelter from this deadly fire, which had already stretched six hundred of their number upon the ground.  The danger was that men so shaken would be stricken with panic, scatter in the darkness over the face of the country, and cease to exist as a military unit.  But the Highlanders were true to their character and their traditions.  There was shouting in the darkness, hoarse voices calling for the Seaforths, for the Argylls, for Company C, for Company H, and everywhere in the gloom there came the answer of the clansmen.  Within half an hour with the break of day the Highland regiments had re-formed, and, shattered and weakened, but undaunted, prepared to renew the contest.  Some attempt at an advance was made upon the right, ebbing and flowing, one little band even reaching the trenches and coming back with prisoners and reddened bayonets.  For the most part the men lay upon their faces, and fired when they could at the enemy; but the cover which the latter kept was so excellent that an officer who expended 120 rounds has left it upon record that he never once had seen anything positive at which to aim.  Lieutenant Lindsay brought the Seaforths’ Maxim into the firing-line, and, though all her crew except two were hit, it continued to do good service during the day.  The Lancers’ Maxim was equally staunch, though it also was left finally with only the lieutenant in charge and one trooper to work it.

Fortunately the guns were at hand, and, as usual, they were quick to come to the aid of the distressed.  The sun was hardly up before the howitzers were throwing lyddite at 4000 yards, the three field batteries (18th, 62nd, 75th) were working with shrapnel at a mile, and the troop of Horse Artillery was up at the right front trying to enfilade the trenches.  The guns kept down the rifle-fire, and gave the wearied Highlanders some respite from their troubles.  The whole situation had resolved itself now into another Battle of Modder River.  The infantry, under a fire at from six hundred to eight hundred paces, could not advance and would not retire.  The artillery only kept the battle going, and the huge naval gun from behind was joining with its deep bark in the deafening uproar.  But the Boers had already learned—­and it is one of their most valuable military qualities that they assimilate their experience so quickly—­that shell fire is less dangerous in a trench than among rocks.  These trenches, very elaborate in character, had been dug some hundreds of yards from the foot of the hills, so that there was hardly any guide to our artillery fire.  Yet it is to the artillery fire that all the losses of the Boers that day were