The men of C Squadron under Captain Vernon, the Bechuanaland Rifles under Captain Cowan, and three guns under Major Panzera and Lieutenant Daniels, of the British South Africa Police, were engaged in the movement, and distinguished themselves in what they did as well as can be expected. At a quarter to two we turned out. Greatcoats had been left behind, men slinging their waterbottles and bandoliers upon their shoulders. We were to meet at the base of a hill rising a few hundred yards across the veldt from Major Godley's. Night hung heavily upon us, the sky was dark, and everything seemed to point to the wisdom of choosing such a night. We stepped out briskly, although to our strained nerves the soft tread of the men sounded as the rumble of a juggernaut. However, we proceeded very quietly, and the sheen of sand, the white lustre of the road, the rustle of the thorn bushes were presently left behind as we took our stand in the rear of Major Godley's troop. In the valley at the base of the hill we halted. Before us, a scarcely perceptible rise silhouetted against the sky, the bushes lining the summit throwing themselves into prominence against the grey, black, background, while here and there trees tossed their arms silently and warningly in the breeze. All around us there was the hum of insect life, that monotonous dead level buzz of countless insects and the baying of the bull frogs. And we waited, when out of the darkness came Major Godley, a tall, thin figure impressed with energy and determination, inspecting the lines.