They had
determined to hold that ridge till night gave them the opportunity of
moving off their waggons and guns safely; and hold it they did. No doubt
we could have carried it by storm, but crossing that thousand yards of
open ground would have meant a terrible loss, and the General did not
attempt it. As it was, there was a great deal of banging and blazing,
almost like the old Modder days, for a time; guns hard at it, and
Mausers and Lee-Metfords jabbering away at a great rate, though, as both
sides were under cover, the loss was not heavy. The firing went on till
pitch dark, and we camped close under the ridge we had won. Next morning
we found the ridge vacant, with only heaps of empty cartridge cans and
an occasional blood-stain on the rocks to show where our enemy had lain.
A little way out from Pretoria there are some very smart-looking new
houses, what they call "villa residences" in England, built in the
style, a sort of mild and tepid Gothic (what I call grocer's Gothic, for
it always reminds me of brown sugar and arrowroot), common around
watering-places; small gables sticking out everywhere, till it looks
like a cluster of dog-kennels; walls faced with ornamental tiles and
lath and plaster; small shrubberies round, and a name on the gate. There
were two especially beautiful ones. The General had one and we had the
other.
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