ar off
you hear pom-pom-pom-pom-pom, five times, and directly afterwards,
like an echo, pom-pom-pom-pom-pom in your neighbourhood, five little
shells bursting over an area of about eighty yards, for all the world
like a gigantic schoolboy's cracker. The new captain of the unlucky
38th has been hit in two places by one.

At the close the day was undecided; the infantry had taken some
trenches, but were still face to face with others, and fire was
hottest at sunset. But I believe the pom-pom was smashed up, and a big
gun silenced, if not smashed. We bivouacked where we were, but
desultory rifle-fire went on long after dark.

_July 24._--Reveille at five. Directly after breakfast we took our
waggon back to the convoy to fill up with shells from the reserve. All
the artillery, including ours, took position again, and began
hammering away, but not for long, as the Boers had been evacuating the
whole position in the night, and the last of their trenches was now
occupied. I believe the Royal Irish have lost heavily, the Munsters
only a few. We got away, and marched through the nek, up and down
steep grassy slopes, and through the site of the Boer laager. I was
struck by its remarkable cleanliness; I thought that was not a Boer
virtue. We halted close to the emplacement where one of the Boer guns
had been yesterday. There was a rush to see some horrible human
_debris_ found in it. I was contented with the word-pictures of
enthusiastic gunners, and didn't go myself. From the brow, a glorious
view opened out. The nek, flanked by its frowning crags, opened out
into an immense amphitheatre of rich undulating pasture-land, with a
white farm here and there, half hidden in trees. Beyond rose tier on
tier of hills, ending on the skyline in snow-clad mountain peaks. You
could just conjecture that a "happy valley" ran right and left. After
the scorched monotony of the veldt it was a wonderful contrast. We
camped just where the nek ends, near an empty farm, which produced a
fine supply of turkeys, geese, and chickens. The Captain, who has
charge of our commissariat, never misses a chance of supplementing our
rations. Williams was sent to forage, and for personal loot got some
coffee and a file of Boer newspapers, or rather war-bulletins,
published in Bethlehem, and roughly lithographed, chiefly lies, I
expect.[A] The Boers have retired south, deeper into the trap. Poultry
was issued, and the gunners and drivers of our waggon drew by lot