Shortly afterwards the music began in earnest. A mile up the valley a Boer big gun appeared and opened fire on troops advancing on the hill from our left rear. Then out came one of our pom-poms and, galloping into position, replied from the opposite end of the valley at a range of some 3,000 yards. The duel between the two lasted for about ten minutes, the pom-pom firing briskly as is its wont, the more ponderous Boer gun replying every two minutes. Lying on the slope as we were, in full view of the valley and within a hundred yards of the line of fire of the opposing guns, we had a splendid, not to say realistic, illustration of artillery fire. The singing of the big shells as they tore through the air was magnificent to our unaccustomed ears. It was curious, too, to observe the sequence in which indications of discharge and report reached us. The first sign that the Boer big gun had been fired was the little cloud of smoke floating near the muzzle. Next we heard the singing of the shell passing up the valley. This was followed by the dust raised by the explosion of the shell in bursting, and not until these evidences of a shot having been fired did we hear the actual report, which was closely followed by that of the bursting shell itself. For some five minutes the duel proceeded, no evidence of the effect of the pom-pom fire being visible to our eyes, though it became evident that the Boers were finding the range, for each shell seemed to land nearer, until, as it seemed to us, one burst right in the middle of our gun. At that moment those of us on the slope heard rifle fire immediately behind. It proved to be our own regiment’s Maxim taking sighting shots at the Boer gun. This certainly made things livelier, but there was no comfort in realising that we lay right in the line of fire, and that replies from the enemy would probably land among us. However, the Boers took no notice of the Maxim, though it spat out bullets at a tremendous rate, but continued to devote their attention to the pom-pom. The greater weight of the Boer metal soon made matters too hot for Captain Rotton’s[8] little gun, and it shortly afterwards retired behind the hill, having lost several horses. Then our turn came, and the officious little Maxim, which had been kicking up a great shindy in our rear, drew the Boer fire. The first shot whizzed unpleasantly close to our heads and burst between us and the Maxim, which, undismayed, continued to pour out a hot fire. Number two was aimed slightly higher and travelled beyond the gun, killing two horses and wounding one man. The Maxim stuck it out pluckily for one more shell, but that fell so close that to have delayed any longer would have only been folly. On the retreat of our machine gun the Boer gun retired behind a kopje, and we were left in peace for a time, though the firing on our left had now greatly increased, and showed that a