ospect of getting rid of our enforced inaction at De
Aar. The air was full of rumours about an impending attack on Cronje's
position, and we fully expected to be in time for the fight and probably
to be employed as stretcher-bearers during the battle. Alas! our hopes
were all in vain. Next day, some miles below Modder River, our engine
with its tender suddenly left the metals. The stoker jumped off, but the
engine fortunately kept on the top of the embankment and nobody was
hurt. We none of us knew how or why the accident had occurred, but one
of the officials suspected very strongly that the rails had been
tampered with.

At any rate, there we were within a few miles of a big fight, off the
metals and quite helpless! We were all perfectly wild with vexation and
disappointment. But up flew a wire to Modder River for a gang of sappers
with screwjacks. Pending the arrival of their assistance I climbed up to
the top of a neighbouring kopje with a lot of Tasmanians. From this
point the flashes of the guns above Modder River were visible, and the
dull boom of Lyddite was borne to our ears. Methuen's artillery was
still doing its best to avenge or retrieve the disaster of the early
morning. The sappers at length arrived. We all helped--pushing and
digging and lifting--and at length after several hours' delay steamed
off to Modder River, too late for anything, except to wait for the
morning and the wounded. We knew by this time that at 3:30 that morning
the Highland Brigade had made a frontal attack on the Magersfontein
lines and had been repulsed with terrible loss. The accounts which were
vaguely given of the disaster were frightful, but accurate details were
still lacking. Yes, here we were within four miles of the nearest point
of Cronje's lines and we did not know half as much about the fight as
people in Pall Mall 7000 miles away!

On 12th of December I woke at four. The sun was just beginning to rise
and the raw chill of the night had not yet left the air. In the grey
light a long string of ambulance waggons was moving slowly towards the
camp from the battle-field. Parallel to the line of waggons a column of
infantry was marching northwards, perhaps to reinforce some of our
outlying trenches against a possible Boer attack. I shall long remember
the sight--the column of dead and wounded coming in, the living column
going out, and scarcely a sound to break the silence.

The wards of the train were all ready for the woun