almost parallel to the railway on the right, and to ascend these hills
our men had to advance over an absolutely level plain devoid of any
cover save an occasional big stone or an anthill (precarious rampart!)
or the still feebler shelter of a bush two feet high. In their
transverse march our men had to cross the railway, and lost considerably
during the delay occasioned by cutting the wire fences on either side to
clear a way for themselves and the guns.

The Boers did not apparently intend to make any serious stand against
Lord Methuen's column at Belmont. The fight was little else than an
"affair of outposts" on their side and it seems very doubtful if more
than 800 of the enemy had been left for the defence of the position.
Their horses were all ready, as usual, behind the kopjes, and when our
gallant men jumped up with a cheer and for the last 100 yards dashed up
the rough stony slope in front, very few Boers remained. Most of them
were already in the saddle, galloping off to Graspan, their next
position. The unwounded Boers who did remain remained--nearly all of
them--for good; rifle bullets and shrapnel and shell splinters are
deadly enough, but deadliest of all is the bayonet thrust. So much
tissue is severed by the broad blade of the Lee-Metford bayonet that the
chances of recovery are often very slight. As volunteer recruits know
sometimes to their cost, the mere mishandling of a bayonet at the end of
a heavy rifle may, even amid the peaceful evolutions of squad drill,
inflict a painful wound. When the weapon is used scientifically with the
momentum of a heavy man behind it, its effects are terrible. Private St.
John of the Grenadiers thrust at a Boer in front of him with such force
that he drove not only the bayonet, but the muzzle of the rifle clean
through the Dutchman. St. John was immediately afterwards shot through
the head and lay dead on the top of the kopje, side by side with the man
he had killed.