We did not know all this time how things had gone with Macdonald and
Bruce-Hamilton, and whether or not they had been able to block the
eastern exits. On this everything depended. So it was with a feeling of
the most gleeful satisfaction that we heard next morning, having
followed the Boers up some two or three miles without seeing anything
of them, the deep, heavy baying of a big gun in the distance, which we
all recognised as the voice of one of the 5-inch cow-guns that had gone
with Bruce-Hamilton. It fired a few shots and then ceased. With infinite
toil, forty oxen to each gun, we then dragged our own two 5-inchers up
the hill we were on, and got them into position for shelling the defiles
ahead. They were not, however, needed. Messengers now began to arrive
from the Boer laagers carrying white flags. There was a lot of palaver.
These went, others came. Le Gallais, our chief of the staff, interviewed
them, while Hunter strolled a little way apart, dreamily admiring the
view. It was evident the Boer envoys were sticking out for terms which
they couldn't get. I could see Le Gallais indicate the surroundings with
summary gestures. The Boers looked very glum. They eyed the cow-guns
especially with profound disgust. These were looking particularly
ridiculous. The nose of one of them projected in the direction of those
secret Boer-tenanted defiles as if the great creature were sniffing for
its enemies in the distance; which gave it a very truculent and
threatening air, as who should say, "Come now, Le Gallais, old fellow,
suppose you let me put a word in," while the other, hanging its head
till its nose touched the very ground, seemed overcome, poor wretch,
with a sudden fit of bashfulness, most absurd in so huge and warlike a
monster.
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