ed practically under
fire, never budging an inch, but remaining immovable, except when a
change of front became necessary to meet the Boer reinforcements, and
that was effected by an advance. Up to that point everything seemed to
be going in our favour. When there was daylight enough for gunners to
see clearly, the 42nd Battery, posted at the eastern end of a green
kopje that forms an irregular spur of Rietfontein Hill, but at a much
lower elevation, opened fire on that ridge where the Boers had planted
Long Tom.

It was interesting to watch shot after shot fall nearer the mark around
it as the gunners picked up the range, until one shell struck and burst
close to "Long Tom's" embrasure. Then the battery took to firing
shrapnel, which were so well timed that one could see projectiles from
the six guns in succession bursting at intervals along Rietfontein's
level crest, which must have been raked from end to end with a shower of
shrapnel bullets. The enemy's leviathan sent two shots at this battery,
without effect, and then turned its fire upon Ladysmith town again, not
with malicious intent, perhaps, but aiming to hit either the balloon or
the railway station, where, in addition to naval guns, there happened to
be stores of forage and other things that might easily have been set
aflame by shells.

Notwithstanding this demonstration, our force was making steady progress
towards an envelopment of the main Boer position at half-past seven in
the morning. Immediately after that, however, prospects changed with the
appearance of formidable reinforcements for the Boers, marching
apparently from the direction in which a large camp had been seen two
days earlier. They came into action on our right flank with a brisk
rifle fire, followed by the deep notes of artillery. In intervals
between the regular roar of field guns came the sledgehammer "thud!
thud! thud!" from an automatic gun, which Tommy Atkins, with his
aptitude for expressive phrases, promptly christened "Pom! Pom!" and
that name sticks to it with unpleasant associations, for the Boers had
not only one but many automatons of the same pattern. Like the heavier
field-piece, "Pom! Pom!" throws shells that burst badly, but throws them
with great accuracy, so that scores of shots in rapid succession fell
among our batteries whenever they advanced to a fresh position, or
changed ground in hope of keeping down that harassing fire.

At this time the Border Mounted Infantry