aw at once that the Boer waggon-laagers, which I watched departing
yesterday, had returned in the night. Perhaps there were not quite so
many waggons, and the site had been shifted a few hundred yards. But
still there they stood again. Their presence is not hopeful, but it does
not imply disaster. They may have gone in haste, and been recalled at
leisure. Buller may have demanded their return under the conditions of a
possible armistice. They may even have found the passes blocked by our
men. Anyhow, there they are, and their return is the only important news
of the day.

No message or tidings came through. The day was cloudy, and ended in
quiet rain. We saw a few shells fall on the plain at the foot of Taba
Nyama, and what looked like a few on the summit. But nothing else could
be made out, except that the Boer ambulances were very busy driving
round.

Among ourselves the chief event was the feverish activity of the
Telegraph Hill big gun. Undeterred by our howitzers, he continued nearly
all morning throwing shells at every point within sight. By one supreme
effort, tilting his nose high up into the air, he threw one sheer up to
the Manchesters on Caesar's Camp--a range of some 12,000 yards, the
gunners say. Perhaps he was trying to make up for the silence of his
Bulwan brother. It is rumoured that Pepworth Hill is to have a successor
to the "Long Tom" of earlier and happier days. Six empty waggons with
double spans of oxen were seen yesterday wending towards Bulwan.

Our hunger is increasing. Men and horses suffer horribly from weakness
and disease. About fifteen horses die a day, and the survivors gasp and
cough at every step, or fall helpless.

Biscuits are to be issued to-night instead of bread, because flour is
running short. It is believed that not 500 men could be got together
capable of marching five miles under arms, so prevalent are all diseases
of the bowels. As to luxuries, even the cavalry are smoking the used
tea-leaves out of the breakfast kettles. "They give you a kind of hot
taste," they say.

_January 27, 1900._

I was again on Observation Hill, watching. Nothing had changed, and
there was no sign of movement. The Boers rode to and fro as usual, and
their cattle grazed in scattered herds. Now and then a big gun fired,
but I could see no bursting shells, and the sound seemed further away. I
crossed the broad valley to Leicester Post. Our cattle and horses were
trying to pick up a little g