Meanwhile the small garrison at Brakfontein (Elands River), to whose aid two forces had been moving, were fighting like demons, and making one of the most magnificent stands of the war. Very little is known of their pluck, their dexterity, and their heroism, but what little we do know goes to prove that these Australians and Rhodesians were made of the stuff that supplies the conquerors of the world. No sooner had they comfortably settled down than they became aware of the close proximity of Boers. Their camp was on a flat plain near a boulder-strewn kopje, enclosed by a girdle of menacing hills which commanded not only them but the nearest point of the river half a mile off. The Colonials looked and saw, and came to their conclusion with rapidity: they were in a trap as close as Cronje's, a trap which must be kept open as long as possible. There were Boers already in the hills, but it was only on the morning of the 4th that they knew the Boers had big guns--six of them--in position, and meant to use them! [Illustration: OFFICER OF THE VICTORIA MOUNTED RIFLES. Photo by Gregory & Co., London.] With dawn the overture had begun, an overture to a murderous opera, for shells, 1500 in number, during that dismal day, were hurled over the little British band. But these were not the fellows to be bombarded with impunity. They examined their resources, looked ruefully at their one gun, a muzzle-loader, which before long jammed, and became more of a danger than a defence. The Boers' fire was too hot and snipers too numerous to allow of remedy to the damage, so nothing could be done but wait--wait for the kindly cloak of night. Then, the besieged set to work with a will, brawny arms and knowing heads helping to construct trenches and shelters, splinter proofs and tunnels, which should defy the snorting weapons of the Dutchmen. But these, despite the darkness, continued to snort and to shriek, and went on persistently till daybreak. Then the besiegers varied the entertainment by directing at the defenceless ones a pom-pom. This was as the last straw that breaks the camel's back. Off rushed gallant young Aanat with twenty-five dashing dare-devils, creeping, rifles in hand, into the bush, and then--the pom-pom was silent! The Boers, chastened, were too cautious again to approach it. But alas! at night this remarkable young Queenslander, so full of grit and gallantry, dropped dead, a victim to the shells that still poured intermittently into the camp. But his good work was done, and the valiant Lieutenant, though he knew it not, had struck the keynote of victory. His comrades swore with a tremendous oath that they would die rather than give in, that the white flag should never float over those five acres that were then the melancholy and diminutive symbol of British Empire. [Illustration: THE BATTLEFIELDS OF PRETORIA. (From a personal survey). Scale 17 miles to an inch.]