in their blood, their glazed blue eyes looking over the
rocks or up to the sky, their ashen hands half-clenched, their teeth
yellow between their pale blue lips.

Beside the outer wall of "Lady Anne's" sangar, his head resting on its
stones, lay a white-bearded man, poorly dressed, but refined in face. It
was De Villiers, the commandant of the Harrismith district--a relation,
a brother perhaps, of the Chief Justice De Villiers, who entertained me
at Bloemfontein less than four months ago. Across his body lay that of a
much younger man, with a short brown beard. He is thought to have been
one of the old man's field cornets, and had fought up to the sangar at
his side till a bullet pierced his eye and brain.

Turning back from the extremity of our position, I went along the whole
ridge. The ground told one as much as men could tell. Among the rocks
lay blood-stained English helmets and Dutch hats; piles of English and
Dutch cartridge-cases, often mixed together in places which both sides
had occupied; scraps of biltong and leather belts; handkerchiefs, socks,
pieces of letters, chiefly in Dutch; dropped ball cartridges of every
model--Lee-Metford, Mauser, Martini, and Austrian. I found a few
hollow-nosed bullets, too, expanding like the Dum-Dum. The effect of
such a bullet was seen on the hat of some poor fellow in the Light
Horse. There was a tiny hole on one side, but the further side was all
rent to pieces. I hear some "express" sporting bullets have also been
taken to the Intelligence Office, but I have not seen them. Beside one
Boer was found one of the old Martini rifles taken from the 52nd at
Majuba.

On the top of Caesar's Camp our dead were laid out for
burial--Manchesters, Gordons, and Rifle Brigade together. The Boers
turned an automatic Maxim on the burying party, thinking they were
digging earthworks. In the wooded valley at the foot of the hill they
themselves, under Geneva flags, were searching the bushes and dongas
for their own dead, and disturbing the little wild deer beside the
stream. On the summit parties of our own men were still engaged
unwillingly in finding the Boer dead and carrying them down the cliff.
Just at the edge of the summit, to which he had climbed in triumph, lay
the body of a man about twenty. A shell had almost cut him in half....
Only his face and his hands were untouched. Like most of the dead he had
the blue eyes and light hair of the well-bred Boer. When first he was
found, h