shell.  It was our old friend the gun to the westward, who, irritated by the noisy Maxims, had resolved to put his foot down.  Whizz!  Bang! came a third shot, exploding among the branches just behind the Colt gun, to the great delight of Mr. Hill, who secured a large fragment which I have advised him to lay on the table in the smoking-room of the House for the gratification, instruction, and diversion of other honourable members.  The next shell smashed through the roof of a farmhouse which stood at the corner of the wood, and near which two troops of the 13th Hussars, who were escorting the Maxims and watching the flanks, had left their led horses.  The next, in quick succession, fell right among them, killing one, but luckily, very luckily, failed to burst.  The officer then decided to move the horses to a safer place.  The two troops mounted and galloped off.  They were a tiny target, only a moving speck across the plain.  But the Boer gunners threw a shell within a yard of the first troop leader.  All this at seven thousand yards!  English artillery experts, please note and if possible copy.

While these things were passing the advancing squadrons had begun to climb the hill, and found to their astonishment that they were scarcely fired at.  It was of great importance, however, that the Boers should be cleared from the summit by the Maxim fire, and lest this should be diverted on our own men by mistake I left the wood for the purpose of signalling back how far the advance had proceeded and up to what point the guns could safely fire.  The ground was broken; the distance considerable.  Before I reached the hill the situation had changed.  The enemy’s artillery had persuaded the Maxims that they would do better to be quiet—­at any rate until they could see something to shoot at.  Major Childe had reached the top of the hill, one man of his squadron, ten minutes in front of anyone else, waving his hat on his rifle at the summit to the admiration of thousands of the infantry, all of whom saw this act of conspicuous recklessness and rejoiced.  Lord Dundonald had galloped up to support the attack with Thorneycroft’s Mounted Infantry and the rest of the 13th Hussars.  We, the South African Light Horse, had taken Bastion Hill.

To advance further forward, however, proved quite impossible.  The Boers had withdrawn to a second position a thousand yards in rear of the top of the hill.  From this they directed a most accurate and damnable fire on all who showed themselves on the plateau.  Beneath the crest one sat in safety and listened to the swish of bullets passing overhead.  Above, the men were content to lie quite still underneath the rocks and wait for darkness.  I had a message for Major Childe and found him sitting on this dangerous ground, partly sheltered by a large rock—­a serene old gentleman, exhausted with his climb, justly proud of its brilliant success.