Soon we can see the little puffs of
dust round the men, that mark where the bullets are striking. All the
further side, up the long gradual slope to the Boer rocks, has been
burnt black and bare, and the bullets, cutting through the cinders,
throw up spots of dust, that show white against the black. Men here and
there stagger and fall. It is hard to see whether they fall from being
hit, or whether it is to shoot themselves. The fire gets faster and
faster, our guns thunder, and through the drifting smoke of the veldt
fires we can still see the Gordons moving onward. Then among the
looking-out group, crouched near the guns, goes a little gasp and mutter
of excitement. We catch on the black background, glistening in the sun,
the quick twinkle of a number of little steel points. They are fixing
bayonets! Now the little figures move quicker. They make for the left
side of the ridge. A minute more, and along the sky-line we see them
appear, a few at first, then more and more. They swing to the right,
where the enemy's main position lies, and disappear. There is a sharp,
rapid interchange of shots, and then the fire gradually lessens and dies
away, and the position is captured. They have lost a hundred men in ten
minutes, but they've done the trick.
Later on, Hamilton, one of the most beloved of our Generals, gallops
forward, and on the hill they have won, as evening is closing, says a
few words to the Gordons.
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