SLINGERSFONTEIN.

RENSBURG.


Scarcely had I returned from posting my last letter when the camp was in a
commotion, caused by the news that the West Australians were in action at
Slingersfontein, distant about twelve miles from Rensburg. To saddle up and
get out as fast as horseflesh would carry a man was but the work of a very
short period of time, for the gallop across the open veldt was not a very
laborious undertaking. I soon found that the stalwart sons of the great
gold colony were in it, and enjoying it.

Slingersfontein is an important position on the right flank of French's
column. It is not only an important but a very hard position to hold on
account of the nature of the country. Here there is but very little open
veldt; mile after mile is covered by small kopjes that rise in countless
numbers, until the whole country looks as if it were covered with a
veritable forest of hills. Once inside that labyrinth of rocky
excrescences, an army might easily be lost, unless every individual man and
officer knew the place thoroughly. The Boers know the lay of the land, and,
consequently, shift from post to post by paths that are unknown to anyone
else with marvellous dexterity and incredible swiftness. Our forces hold a
small plain, which is like the palm of a giant's hand, with the surrounding
kopjes representing the digits. We hold those kopjes also. The shape of the
camp is in the form of a horseshoe, all around the little basin great hills
rise, and from those hills England's watch-dogs keep a sharp look-out on
the movements of the foe; and well they need to, for, in ground which suits
him, the African farmer is as 'cute and cunning as a Red Indian. Behind our
position, or, rather, outside of it, there is another small tract of open