With Rimington | Page 9

their last shots right in our infantry's
faces, then rushing down to their horses and mounting and galloping
off. No doubt, they exposed themselves a bit in doing this, but pumped
and excited men can't be expected to shoot very straight, and I'm afraid
their losses were light compared to ours. They have now retired, we
presume, to the next range of kopjes, there to smoke their pipes and
read their Bibles and await our coming. I suppose we shall be along
to-morrow or next day.

LETTER IV
MODDER RIVER
MODDER RIVER CAMP,
_December 1_, 1899.
We had a great old fight here two days ago, and suffered another
crushing victory; but though I saw it all, I daresay you know more
about the whole thing by this time than I do.
This is Modder River, deep and still, just beneath my feet. It is a lovely,
cloudless morning, and going to be a very hot day. I am writing my
letter on the banks of the river in the shade of green trees and shrubs,
with birds singing and twittering, and building their nests round me; it
is spring-time here, you know, or early summer. Here and there,
sauntering or sitting, are groups of our khaki soldiers enjoying mightily
a good rest after the hard work, marching and fighting, of the last ten
days. From the river-bed come voices calling and talking, sounds of
laughing, and now and then a plunge. Heads bob about and splash in
the mud-coloured water, and white figures run down the bank and stand
a moment, poised for a plunge. Three stiff fights in seven days doesn't
seem to have taken much of the spring out of them.

You would scarcely think it was the scene of a battle, and yet there are
a few signs. If you look along the trees and bushes, you see here and
there a bough splintered or a whole trunk shattered, as though it had
been struck by lightning. A little lower down the river there is a shed of
corrugated iron, which looks as if some one had been trying to turn it
into a pepper-pot by punching it all over with small holes. They run a
score to the square foot, and are a mark of attention on the part of our
guards, who, lying down over yonder in the plain, could plainly
distinguish the light-coloured building and made a target of it. In many
places the ground is ploughed up in a curious way, and all about in the
dust lie oblong cylinders of metal, steel tubes with a brass band round
one end. These would puzzle you. They are empty shell cases. The tops,
as you see, have been blown off, which is done by the bursting charge
timed by a fuse to ignite at a certain range, _i.e._, above and a little
short of the object aimed at. The explosion of the bursting charge by
the recoil, checks for an instant the flight of the shell, and this instant's
check has the effect of releasing the bullets with which the case is filled.
These fly forward with the original motion and impetus of the shell
itself, spreading as they go. Horizontal fire is easy to find cover against,
but these discharges from on high are much more difficult to evade. For
instance, ant-hills are excellent cover against rifles, but none at all
against these shells. It is shrapnel, as this kind of shell is called, that
does the most mischief. The round bullets (200 to a caseful) lie
scattered about in the dust, and mixed with them are very different little
slender silvery missiles, quite pretty and delicate, like jewellers'
ornaments. These are Lee-Metford bullets. You could pick up a
pocketful in a short time.
The action itself was mainly an infantry one. Here are one or two
jottings taken that day:--
"_November 26th_, 7.30 A.M.--We left camp, six miles south of
Modder River, a little before daylight and marched north. The country
is like what one imagines a North American prairie to be, a sea of
whitish, coarse grass, with here and there a low clump of bushes
(behind one of which we are halted as I write this). One can see a vast
distance over the surface. Along the north horizon there is a ripple of
small hills and kopjes, looking blue, with the white grass-land running
up to them. It is a comparatively cool morning with a few light clouds

in the sky and a pleasant breeze. On our left is the railway, and all
along on our right, extending far in front and far behind, advances the
army."
"We incline to the left near to the railway. The horrid, little, grey-bluish,
armoured train crawls in front. It is dreadfully excited