The position was a good one, but of course the general knew that he could do no more than make the English do a lot of work, and possibly knock a few of them down before he had to retreat. Roberts finally showed up, and the deployment of that great body of men into fighting formation, with absolute mathematical precision, was really beautiful. I was so interested that I could scarcely take my eyes from such beautiful military figures. That awful man, that brave man, that gallant man, Major J.L. Pretorius, seemed to have no idea of the beautiful at all, for just before the military figure was completed in all its beauty, he fired a shell that fell right among them. That shell simply played the deuce and ruined a most artistic picture. Instead of order, precision and beauty, we now had to witness disorder and pandemonium generally, for the English soldiers broke away, some running one way and some another, not one seeming in the least inclined to take a chance on the next shell that might follow. It was marvellous what havoc one tiny shell could raise in a military-trained and thoroughly disciplined army. Major Pretorius was nothing but a youngster, but then there was nothing in the British army that was anywhere near his equal. For a change, and as the Irish boys were the latest arrivals, General de la Rey said he would hold us as reserves. Major Pretorius started the fight with that shell, and soon 30,000 English with cannon and shell were trying to lay low General de la Rey and 2,500 patriots. When the fighting became really hot and close, the reserve, the Irish boys, were sent for and told to come as quickly as possible to the road crossing the river. We went, but to go into the firing line we had to pass through the belt especially shelled by the English guns. The boys did not murmur; they went out. Strange to say, not one of them received a bullet. Now, they had a close range, and didn't they send the bullets to the right place? I think they did, and I know they did. There were a lot of British to our right and front in a kopje about 1,000 yards distant. I think they were Irish, for the English turned their maxims on them, killed many of them and kept them from firing on us. We did not fire on them because the English were doing the work for us.