ing fire, the rattle
and roar of which betokened frightful carnage.... A bugler boy of the
5th Lancers shot three Boers with his revolver. He was afterwards
carried round the camp amid cheers."

So many acts of gallantry were performed that they cannot all be
related. It is impossible, however, to allow the wondrous pluck of
Sergeant Kenneth M'Leod to go unrecorded. During the charge this gallant
Scot was twice struck, once in the arm and once in the side. He however
continued to pipe and advance with the Gordons to their final rush.
Presently came more bullets, smashing his drones, his chanter, and his
windbag, whereupon the splendid fellow had to give in.

Perhaps the most heart-rending period was that following the last gleam
of daylight, when the Medical Staff went forth to do their melancholy
duty. All were armed with lanterns, which, shining like pale glow-worms,
made the dense gloom around more impenetrable still. Yet, groping and
shivering through the black horror of the night, they patiently pursued
their ghastly task with zeal that was truly magnificent. Dead, dying,
wounded, were dotted all over the veldt. There, bearded old Boers, boys,
Britons in their prime, were indiscriminately counted, collected,
tended, the Field Hospital men and Indian stretcher-bearers working
incessantly and ungrudgingly till dawn. Gruesome and heart-rending were
the sights and scenes around the camp-fires when such wounded as could
crawl dragged themselves towards their comrades. Pitiable the faces of
the survivors as news came in of gallant hearts that had ceased to beat.
A pathetic incident was witnessed in the grey gloom of the small hours.
One of the bearers chanced on an ancient hoary-headed Boer, who was
lying behind a rock supporting himself on his elbows. The bearer
approached warily, as many of the enemy were known to have turned on
those who went to their succour. This man, however, was too weak from
loss of blood to attempt to raise his rifle. Between his dying gasps he
begged a favour--would some one find his son, a boy of thirteen, who had
been fighting by his side when he fell. The request was obeyed. The
little lad, stone-dead, was discovered. He was placed in the failing
arms of his father. The unhappy old fellow clasped the clay-cold form,
and hugged it despairingly to himself, and then, merciful Providence
pitied him in his misery--his stricken spirit went out to join his son.

An officer who was wounded, and wh