Mine. The mines, it may be said, were the objectives of special
bombardments until the end; but, so far, we were not inclined to think
highly of the enemy's marksmanship. The shells fell a long way short,
albeit not so short as at first; the aim was improving. Given time, the
Boer would yet hit his target; but of course he would not get time.

Practice was resumed next morning at an hour sufficiently preternatural
to deprive us of a portion of our legitimate sleep. We rose early in
Kimberley--long before the lark--to our credit be it sung; but four
o'clock was too far removed from breakfast time, and four was commonly
the hour chosen by the churlish Boers to commence operations throughout
the tedious months of our investment. The whiz and the explosion were
not invariably audible, but the boom was always heard. Our "friends"
rarely missed making a noise, and, to secure proper rest, this
break-of-day _penchant_ sent people early to bed. A big gun had been
placed by the enemy on the top of Wimbleton Ridge, wherefrom--as our
Garrison Orders grandiloquently stated--"the strength of the fortress of
Kimberley was tested." The shells landed safely on the bare veld, and
even when the dissatisfied gunners brought their gun closer, no harm
was done. Wimbleton was three or four miles away, and we were not
therefore in a position to reciprocate the attentions we received from
it. Another assault was subsequently made on the Premier fort. Our
seven-pounders were this time able to do a bit of bowling, and a ball
was hurled at the enemy's wickets that stopped play for the day.

There was considerable elation in town at the non-success of the Boer as
an artillerist, and the belief was entertained that his stock of
ammunition would soon be blown to the winds. Nearly a hundred shells had
been thrown at us, without angering or damaging anyone or anything
save--a cook and his cooking-pot! The cook resided in a redoubt; his pot