right
flank of the Boers. At the moment of the final advance the great black
cloud had burst, and a torrent of rain lashed into the faces of the men.
Slipping and sliding upon the wet grass, they advanced to the assault.

And now amid the hissing of the rain there came the fuller, more
menacing whine of the Mauser bullets, and the ridge rattled from end to
end with the rifle fire. Men fell fast, but their comrades pressed
hotly on. There was a long way to go, for the summit of the position was
nearly 800 feet above the level of the railway. The hillside, which had
appeared to be one slope, was really a succession of undulations, so
that the advancing infantry alternately dipped into shelter and emerged
into a hail of bullets. The line of advance was dotted with khaki-clad
figures, some still in death, some writhing in their agony. Amid the
litter of bodies a major of the Gordons, shot through the leg, sat
philosophically smoking his pipe. Plucky little Chisholm, Colonel of the
Imperials, had fallen with two mortal wounds as he dashed forward waving
a coloured sash in the air. So long was the advance and so trying the
hill that the men sank panting upon the ground, and took their breath
before making another rush. As at Talana Hill, regimental formation was
largely gone, and men of the Manchesters, Gordons, and Imperial Light
Horse surged upwards in one long ragged fringe, Scotchman, Englishman,
and British Africander keeping pace in that race of death. And now at
last they began to see their enemy. Here and there among the boulders
in front of them there was the glimpse of a slouched hat, or a peep at
a flushed bearded face which drooped over a rifle barrel. There was a
pause, and then with a fresh impulse the wave of men gathered themselves
together and flung themselves forward. Dark figures sprang up from the
rocks in front. Some held up their rifles in token of surrender. Some
ran with heads sunk between their shoulders, jumping and ducking among
the rocks. The panting breathless climbers were on the edge of the
plateau. There were the two guns which had flashed so brightly, silenced
now, with a litter of dead gunners around them and one wounded officer
standing by a trail. A small body of the Boers still resisted. Their
appearance horrified some of our men. 'They were dressed in black
frock coats and looked like a lot of rather seedy business men,' said a
spectator. 'It seemed like murder to kill them.' Some surrende