During the night of the 12th the Dutchmen attempted another attack, but volley after volley was poured into them with such animation that by 4 A.M. they were glad enough to retire. Fortunately not a man was killed or wounded, and those who had so well defended themselves felt a somewhat natural satisfaction in seeing the Boer ambulances at work the next morning. Soon it was rumoured that the Boers were bringing up another gun, and the garrison, who were beginning to get tired of being peppered at by guns big and small, began to long for the arrival of reinforcements. Friday the 13th, the following Saturday and Sunday, were used by the Boers for their Easter devotions--not that they were too devout to enjoy a little sniping in the intervals. Nasal hymns took the place of the snorts of Long Tom, but after the reiterations of the Vickers Maxim the Federals resumed their bombardment with renewed zest, and Oom Sam, the British howitzer, took up the tune. Unfortunately, the Dutchmen resorted to expansive bullets. One of the commandants tried to assert that these were captured from the British, but truth not being the Boer forte, no effort was made to refute the vile impeachment. The garrison next made a dashing sortie and captured a Boer gun. Aggressive action was necessary. Reinforcements were daily reaching the besiegers, and hostile gangs were collecting in the vicinity of Dewetsdorp. These soon gathered round the plucky British force, which, to protect itself, launched out with such vigour that the Boers, especially the Zastrom Commando, who had assaulted to a jubilate, retreated to a dirge. The women wept, and the men themselves grew anxious, for the Basutos, warlike and excited, were massing on the border, and a sword of Damocles, in the form of an exasperated legion of natives, threatened to drop on the Dutchmen's heads. They were getting into difficulties on all sides. One of Olivier's guns was smashed, and another had been captured in the sortie by the Cape Mounted Rifles. But the energies of this sprightly corps had also cost them dear. During the four days' fighting, from the 9th to the 13th, eighteen were slain and 132 wounded! The men on the south-western fringe fared worse even than the others. They feared to cook in their trenches lest they should attract the Boer fire, and meals brought from adjacent shelters were cold before they could reach them. Such reviving and inspiriting refreshment as hot tea or coffee was almost unknown, and as a natural consequence, particularly in such damp weather, warmth external and internal was most craved for and very generally missed. Washing was a luxury not to be thought of, indeed, a rain bath in a trench had to serve all purposes. The strain of such conditions on the men was most trying, and the account given by one of the officers was far from exaggerated. "They had to go into their trenches on the night of the 8th, and from then till the 25th they had to stay in them, crouching in