We formed ourselves into
groups, and each group packed itself a low wall of the loose stones
lying about.
One German, armed with a Martini-Henry, found himself shunned by all his
comrades on account of his cartridges not containing smokeless powder,
and was obliged to entrench himself on his own at some distance from
the rest. The poor fellow was the butt of all the primitive humourists
from the backwoods, and was assured with much solemnity that his rifle
would draw all the British fire in his direction, and that he was as
good as dead already. Thorny is the path of glory!
The British guns in Ladysmith opened fire as their cavalry advanced, the
shells falling a few hundred yards to our right, on a hill whence our
cannon had lately been removed.
When within two thousand yards the enemy suddenly wheeled to the left
and were quickly out of sight between the hills. They found the Pretoria
men there, and came back helter-skelter to the accompaniment of rapid
rifle firing. First one saddle and then another was emptied as they
raced across from right to left, making for a low scrub-covered kopje.
In this kopje a party of our men were concealed. With keen interest we
watched the scene, waiting to see the enemy caught in the trap. Then a
volley burst from the brush. Like a flash the horsemen wheeled and raced
back into Ladysmith.
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