ndoned
position. Then suddenly the retiring Riflemen sprang up and ran for
shelter in our donga. One lad jumped right in among us laughing and
panting, and the whole party turned at once and lined the bank.
First-class infantry can afford to retire at the double, sure that they
will stop at a word. 'We got to within fifty yards of the Dutchmen,'
they said; 'but it was too hot to go further. They've shot two fellows
through the head.' Eventually we all retired to the main position on the
ridge above us. Lord Dundonald and his staff had just arrived.

'There! there's the white flag again. Shoot the devils!' cried a
soldier, and the musketry crashed out fiercely. 'What's to be done,
sir?' said the Captain, turning to the Brigadier; 'the white flag has
been up off and on for the last half-hour, but they don't stop firing,
and they've just killed two of my men.'

'Give them one more chance.' 'Cease fire--cease fire there, will you?'
for the men were very angry, and so at last the musketry died away, and
there was silence. Then from among the rocks three dark figures stood up
holding up their hands, and at this tangible evidence of surrender we
got on our horses and galloped towards them waving pocket handkerchiefs
and signalling flags to show them that their surrender was accepted.
Altogether there were twenty-four prisoners--all Boers of the most
formidable type--a splendid haul, and I thought with delight of my poor
friends the prisoners at Pretoria. This might redeem a few. Then we
searched the ground, finding ten dead or dying and twenty loose horses,
ten dead and eight badly wounded men. The soldiers crowded round these
last, covering them up with blankets or mackintoshes, propping their
heads with saddles for pillows, and giving them water and biscuits from
their bottles and haversacks. Anger had turned to pity in an instant.
The desire to kill was gone. The desire to comfort replaced it. A little
alert officer--Hubert Gough, now a captain, soon to command a
regiment--came up to me. Two minutes before his eyes were bright and
joyous with the excitement of the man hunt. He had galloped a
mile--mostly under fire--to bring the reinforcements to surround the
Boers. 'Bag the lot, you know.' Now he was very sad. 'There's a poor boy
dying up there--only a boy, and so cold--who's got a blanket?'

So the soldiers succoured the Boer wounded, and we told the prisoners
that they would be shown courtesy and kindness worthy of bra