Opposite our right ran a long high ridge covered with rocks and leading
up to a rocky plateau. In their centre was a pointed hill, at the foot
of which stood their camp, with tents and waggons. Opposite our left was
a small detached kopje, and beyond that a fairly flat plain, with a
river running through it, and the railway beyond Elands Laagte Station.
Their three guns stood on the rocky ridge to our right of their
camp--two together half-way down, one a little higher up.
Flash--flash--they went, and then came the whirr, the crash, and the
screaming fragments.

Suddenly our guns opened in answer from our right centre, and we could
watch the shrapnel bursting right over their gunners' heads. They say
the gunners were German. At all events, they were brave fellows, and
worked the guns with extraordinary skill and courage. The official
account admits that they returned several times to their posts after
being driven out by our shell. The afternoon was passing, and if we were
to take the place before dark we could not spare time to shake it with
our artillery much longer. At about half-past four the infantry were
ordered to advance, the Gordons and Manchesters on the right, the Devons
on the left. They went down the long slope and across the valley with
perfect intervals and line, much better than they go in the hollows of
the old Fox Hills.

In the advance the Gordons and Manchesters gradually changed direction
half right and crept up towards that plateau on the right of the ridge,
so as to take the enemy in flank. The Devons went straight forward,
coming into infantry fire as they crossed that low wave of ground in the
middle of the valley. On the further slope they were ordered to lie down
and wait till the flanking movement was developed. Happily the slope, as