The Position Was Gained, But Little Else.
Seven Officers And Seventy Men Were Lying Killed And Wounded Among
The Boulders.
A few stricken Boers, five unwounded prisoners, and a
string of Basuto ponies were the poor fruits of victory - those and
the arid hill from which so much had been hoped, and so little was
to be gained.
It was during this advance that an incident occurred of a more
picturesque character than is usual in modern warfare. The
invisibility of combatants and guns, and the absorption of the
individual in the mass, have robbed the battle-field of those
episodes which adorned, if they did not justify it. On this
occasion, a Boer gun, cut off by the British advance, flew out
suddenly from behind its cover, like a hare from its tussock, and
raced for safety across the plain. Here and there it wound, the
horses stretched to their utmost, the drivers stooping and lashing,
the little gun bounding behind. To right to left, behind and
before, the British shells burst, lyddite and shrapnel, crashing
and riving. Over the lip of a hollow, the gallant gun vanished, and
within a few minutes was banging away once more at the British
advance. With cheers and shouts and laughter, the British
infantrymen watched the race for shelter, their sporting spirit
rising high above all racial hatred, and hailing with a 'gone to
ground' whoop the final disappearance of the gun.
The Durhams had cleared the path, but the other regiments of
Lyttelton's Brigade followed hard at their heels, and before night
they had firmly established themselves upon the hill.
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