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.

I found no reason to remain very long on the plateau, and had just
returned to the Brigadier when the Boer guns began to shell the tip of
the hill. The first two or three projectiles skimmed over the surface,
and roared harmlessly away. But the Boers were not long in striking
their mark. Two percussion shells burst on the exposed side of the hill,
and then a well-exploded shrapnel searched its summit, searched and
found what it sought. Major Childe was instantly killed by a fragment
that entered his brain, and half a dozen troopers were more or less
seriously wounded. After that, as if satisfied, the enemy's gun turned
its attention elsewhere.

I think this death of Major Childe was a very sad event even among the
inevitable incidents of war. He had served many-years ago in the Blues,
and since then a connection with the Turf had made him not unknown and
well liked in sporting circles. Old and grey as he was, the call to arms
had drawn him from home, and wife, and comfort, as it is drawing many of
all ages and fortunes now. And so he was killed in his first fight
against the Boers after he had performed an exploit--his first and last
in war--which would most certainly have brought him honourable
distinction. He had a queer presentiment of impending fate, for he had
spoken a good deal to us of the chances of death, and had even selected
his own epitaph, so that on the little wooden cross which stands at the
foot of Bastion Hill--the hill he himself took and held--there is
written: 'Is it well with the child? It is well!'

The coign of vantage which I found on the side of the hill was not only
to a great extent sheltered from the bullets, but afforded an extensive
view of the general action, and for the rest of the day I remained with
Lord Dundonald watching its development. But a modern action is very
disappointing as a spectacle. There is no smoke except that of the
bursting shells. The combatants are sc