Retribution--Sir Archibald Hunter's bold scheme--A night attack--Silently through the darkness--At the foot of Gun Hill--A broken ascent--"Wie kom dar?" "The English are on us!"--Major Henderson thrice wounded--Destroying "Leviathan"--Hussars suffer under fire--Rejoicings in town--Sir George White's address to the troops--Boer compliments--A raid for provender--A second sortie--The Rifles' bold enterprise--An unwelcome light--Cutting the wires--Surprise Hill reached--The sentry's challenge--The Rifles' charge--Boer Howitzer destroyed--The return to camp--Cutting the way home--Serious losses. This constant shelling of the town could not go on for ever without some attempt being made to stop it. Mr. Pearse had himself urged the practicability of capturing or putting out of action at close quarters the Boer big gun which could not be dealt with by our shell-fire. This was now to be done. The Creusot gun just mounted on Gun Hill, which like its neighbours had been given a name and endowed with a personality by the nimble-witted among the garrison, was to pay the penalty of its crimes, and the enterprise of which this was the result formed one of the most brilliant incidents in the history of the siege. Probably (writes Mr. Pearse) no corps within our lines has been more deliberately shelled than the Imperial Light Horse, who were driven out of one camp by "Long Tom" of Pepworth's Hill, only to pitch their tents by the river bank within sight of "Puffing Billy's" gunners, who had got the range from Bulwaan to a nicety, so that they could pitch shell after shell into the new encampment. Even their "Long Tom" also still pounded at them by way of varying the monotony of a daily duel with our naval guns. But the most annoying fire of all came from the newly-mounted 6-inch Creusot on Little Bulwaan, which, for the sake of distinction, is known officially as Gun Hill, in front of Lombard's Kop. Having an effective range that enables it to search with shell every part of our camp that is visible, this weapon fired first in one direction, then in another, changing its aim so frequently that nobody could predict where the next shell might fall until it came hurtling through the air, in dangerous proximity, with a sound that suggests the half-throttled scream of a steam siren, and it generally finished, as it began, with a few shots at the Imperial Light Horse, or their near neighbours the Gordon Highlanders.