ve men and
a famous quarrel. The Boer dead were collected and a flag of truce was
sent to the enemy's lines to invite a burying and identification party
at dawn. I have often seen dead men, killed in war--thousands at
Omdurman--scores elsewhere, black and white, but the Boer dead aroused
the most painful emotions. Here by the rock under which he had fought
lay the Field Cornet of Heilbronn, Mr. de Mentz--a grey-haired man of
over sixty years, with firm aquiline features and a short beard. The
stony face was grimly calm, but it bore the stamp of unalterable
resolve; the look of a man who had thought it all out, and was quite
certain that his cause was just, and such as a sober citizen might give
his life for. Nor was I surprised when the Boer prisoners told me that
Mentz had refused all suggestions of surrender, and that when his left
leg was smashed by a bullet he had continued to load and fire until he
bled to death; and they found him, pale and bloodless, holding his
wife's letter in his hand. Beside him was a boy of about seventeen shot
through the heart. Further on lay our own two poor riflemen with their
heads smashed like eggshells; and I suppose they had mothers or wives
far away at the end of the deep-sea cables. Ah, horrible war, amazing
medley of the glorious and the squalid, the pitiful and the sublime, if
modern men of light and leading saw your face closer, simple folk would
see it hardly ever.

It could not be denied that the cavalry had scored a brilliant success.
We had captured twenty-four, killed ten, and wounded eight--total,
forty-two. Moreover, we had seen the retreating Boers dragging and
supporting their injured friends from the field, and might fairly claim
fifteen knocked out of time, besides those in our hands, total
fifty-seven; a fine bag, for which we had had to pay scarcely anything.
Two soldiers of the Mounted Infantry killed; one trooper of the Imperial
Light Horse slightly, and one officer, Captain Shore--the twenty-third
officer of this regiment hit during the last three months--severely
wounded.

CHAPTER XVII

THE BATTLE OF SPION KOP

Venter's Spruit: January 25, 1900.

It is the remarkable characteristic of strong races, as of honourable
men, to keep their tempers in the face of disappointment, and never to
lose a just sense of proportion; and it is, moreover, the duty of every
citizen in times of trouble to do or say or even to think nothing that
can weaken or discoura