found it impossible to silence them. While our fire was concentrated on
to any one of them, it would remain silent, but, after a short interval,
would always begin again, to the rage of our gunners. There is
especially a big gun of theirs in a fold of the hill just at the crest,
between which and "Joey" exist terms of mortal defiance. Nothing else it
appears can touch either of them; so while the lesser cannonade rages in
the middle, these two lordly creatures have a duel of their own and
exchange the compliments of the season with great dignity and
deliberation over the others' heads. It has gone all in favour of "Joey"
while I was watching, the Boer gun being rather erratic and most of its
shells falling short. It made one good shot just in front of us, and it
was really comic to see how "Joey," who had been looking for other
adversaries for the moment, came swinging round at the voice of his
dearest foe. The explosion of the big gun almost knocks one backwards,
and I feel the sudden pressure on my ears of the concussion.

Later in the day "Joey" and I got quite thick. There is a double kopje,
detached from the main Boer position on our side, known as the Dumbell
Kopje. From our left-front place we could see a lot of Boers clustered
under the hill, pasted, like swarming bees, up against the lee of it,
while the naval gun's shells--for he evidently had a nonchalant idea
that there was some one about there--went flying overhead and bursting
beyond. This was very irritating to watch, and I was glad to be sent
back to "whisper a word in his ear." Making a hasty sketch of the hill,
I galloped back and presented it to the captain with explanation, and
had the satisfaction of seeing 300 yards knocked off "Joey's" next shot,
which was, I should judge, a very hot one. "Stay and have some grub,"
said the jolly naval captain. We sat on the ground eating and drinking,
while "Joey" peppered the Dutchmen.