While the hazy blue pall of the morning yet hung over the hills the trenches near the crest were occupied. The clouds hung low, and not a Dutchman was to be seen. For some time the troops were protected by the enshrouding mist, but so soon as it cleared, the Boers from their posts opened fire. They realised that the position to them was virtually one of life or death. Ping! ping! rang the rifles in chorus; bong! bong! went the guns, with a deep basso that reverberated in the hollows of the hills. It was an awe-striking reveille. The hostile artillery had the range to a nicety; each shell followed the other with precision, and burst with terrific uproar on the patch of earthworks held by our infantry. Under this fearful fusillade our men, pelted yet undismayed, faithfully held their ground for two mortal hours. But the shell-fire made horrible gaps in the stalwart company; and by-and-by General Woodgate, who, having captured the position, still continued to direct and encourage his men, was wounded, Colonel Blomfield, of the 2nd Lancashire Fusiliers, took over command, and sent for reinforcements. He also fell. Then, by reason of merit rather than of seniority, Major Thorneycroft, local lieutenant-colonel, was appointed to take the place of the disabled chief. With the rising of the sun, with the development of day, developed the battle. Shrapnel from 15-pounders sprayed hither and thither; lyddite opened out earth-umbrellas far and wide. The roar and the roll of fiends in fury rent the clear, mimosa-scented atmosphere, and made even the bosom of the placid, silvery river shudder and quake as it wound and twisted and looped round Potgieter's Drift. For three and a half hours the tornado pursued its deadly course. Death--mutilation--agony--thirst--these were more prominent than the word glory in that long, immemorial period. Officers and men alike could scarce lift a head lest they should meet the doom that hung over every creature that dared to stand upright in the murderous arena. They crouched, and took cover, and waited. The Boers, seeing their advantage, noting the terrible strain on the men that held the captured trenches, and the dance of death among Thorneycroft's Mounted Infantry, also bided their time. With great caution and "slimness" they finally commenced to creep up nearer and nearer, firing the while, and hoping, when things became a shade worse, to rush the position. Unfortunately there were no guns to rout the adventurous crew--not one handy Naval 12-pounder to sweep the enemy from the plateau. There they were, and there they meant to remain. Major-General Coke's brigade had started to get to the scene of action, and before long the Middlesex, Dorset, and Somerset Regiments were moving up the heights to the assistance of the battered regiments above. Major Walters, in charge of the ambulance, was also carrying out his grim, unusually heavy duties, but he, in the midst of his deeds of