The infantry in camp, meanwhile, received orders to march out at 1·30 a.m. of the next day, the 23rd, to deliver an attack upon the enemy at dawn. This was the first occasion upon which most of the men had ever been engaged. So far they had faced only discomfort; now they were to confront mutilation, pain, and sudden death. They were to learn what war was: "It was not play. It was not pleasure. It was not sport under the greenwood tree, but a savage encounter with desperate adversaries, who dealt death and grievous wounds with impartial hands." Yet these thoughts depressed and saddened few in the camp; rather, perhaps, the excitement tended to raise their spirits. From general to private all looked forward to the breaking of the day and the coming of the moment when the flower of the British Army should measure its strength against the detested Boer. The army had out-marched its transport, and that night the men had little or nothing to eat. They filled their water bottles, left behind their great-coats, and, some time later than the appointed hour, marched silently forth into the darkness in one long line, the Northumberland Fusiliers on the left, the Northamptons and Yorkshires in the centre, and the Guards on the right. No words were spoken; no sounds made; yet now and again the creaking of the waggons startled the soft night air and gave more audible warning than a multitude of talking men. Again, when the railway was crossed, the wire fence had to be cut away with an axe, as it seems that our troops were not equipped with wire-cutters. This made a tremendous noise and might have been heard miles away; so that the enemy could not but have been very well aware of the advance of the British. [Illustration: [_Photo by J. E. Bluton, Capetown._ PLAY. Tommy can fish for sticklebacks with as much zest--and as little art--in South African waters as in the fountain in Bushey Park or the Thames at Hammersmith.] [Illustration: _F.J. Waugh._] [_After a Stereo-Photo from life by Underwood & Underwood. Copyrighted 1900._ DEADLY EARNEST. The lonely sentinel on the wide veldt experiences many a nerve-shaking terror in the still night hours, knowing as he does that he is surrounded by subtle foes, accustomed to find sufficient shelter in any scrap of scrub or stone.] [Sidenote: [NOV. 23, 1899.]