The battle proved to be, in many ways, one of the most spectacular in
history. For as the infantry advanced, under a steady hail of shell
and bullets, the sky began to darken. The Boer positions stood
silhouetted by stray puffs of white smoke against a lowering cumulus
of clouds. While the artillery on both sides shook the ground with an
inferno of sound, the storm burst. The thunder of the heavens became a
spasmodic chorus to the roar of the guns. One correspondent has
described how he found himself mechanically humming the "Ride of the
Valkyries" that was being played on such a dread orchestra. Slipping
and stumbling, cursing and cheering, the Devons crept forward across
the sodden grass. Many of the bravest, among them Chisholme, went down
on that plain of death. Far beyond the level veldt there were
something like 800 feet to climb in the face of Mauser and shrapnel.
At length, however, the top of the ridge was reached. There stood the
three guns that had wrought such havoc, now silent among the corpses
of the frock-coated burghers who had served them.

[Page Heading: THE WHITE FLAG TRICK]

The Boers still kept up the fight, however, on the further side of the
plateau. The cheering Gordons, the Manchesters and the Devons now
flung themselves at the remnant of the foe. Suddenly a white flag was
seen to flutter defeat from a kopje beyond the laager. On the instant
the soldiers paused at the surprising notes of the "Cease fire,"
followed by the "Retire." For a moment they wavered between discipline
and dismay. At that instant from a small kopje east of the nek came a
violent burst of firing as some fifty of the enemy made a last effort
to regain their position.