but simply plod on and take hard knocks, well, what else, I ask, under
the circumstances can we do?

Yesterday in the early morning we found ourselves emerging from some
stony hills with a great plain before us about four miles wide, I should
think, with an ugly-looking range of hills bounding it on the north and
the railway running north and south on our left. This we had every
reason to believe was the enemy's position; toll-gate No. 2 on the
Kimberley road. We went on to reconnoitre. Rimington led us straight
towards the hills in open order, and when we were somewhere about rifle
range from them, we right turned and galloped in line along their front;
but no gun or rifle spoke. When we reached the eastern point of the
range, we turned it and rode on with the hills on our left; and now,
with the Lancers a little farther out on our right, we offered too good
a shot for the enemy to resist. They opened on us with, as I thought
three, but others think two, guns, and put in some quick and
well-directed shots, of which the first one or two fell short and the
rest went screaming over our heads and fell among the Lancers.

One point of difference, I notice, so far as a short experience goes,
between cavalry and infantry, which is all in favour of the cavalry; and
that is, that when they get into fire the infantry go calmly on, while
the much wiser cavalry generally run away. We retired from these guns,
but when opposite the corner of the range the Lancers got on to some
bad ground in front of us, and we had to halt a minute, which gave the
Boer Long Tom an excellent chance of a few parting words with us. The
first shell came along, making the mad noise they do, whooping and
screaming to itself, and plunged into the ground with a loud snort only
about thirty or forty yards off. The gunner, having got his range, was
not long in sending down another, and when the white curl of smoke