desirable but not at all imminent. Our "beds" were too strange and cold
for sleep--as in the case of peaceful people when travel necessitates a
departure from feathers to planks of straw. We watched the play of the
searchlight, and were interested observers of a responsive gleam from
Modder River. The Column was there for a certainty. We had been
listening all day to the booming of guns, but had yet no idea that it
was connected with the battle of Modder River. Ultimately we ceased
chattering, and charmed _Morpheus_ at last--all unconscious of the sad
morrow.

For a sad morrow it was. The most tragic day of the siege! A rumour ran
riot that Scott-Turner had been killed; but the people _would not_
believe it. Colonel Scott-Turner dead! It was hard to convince the
populace of the fate of the gallant Colonel; harder still to inculcate
that over with him to the great majority had passed twenty-four of his
followers. But so it was. Of the survivors thirty were wounded!

Some seventy or eighty mounted men had attacked the Boers in possession
of Carter's Farm (which had been re-taken), and had carried the Farm in
the face of a withering fire from the enemy--who fell back upon a
stronger position. Nothing daunted, our men brought up their guns and
prepared to repeat their success. The Boers resisted fiercely, but were
eventually driven back to a third line of defence. Night was rapidly
descending, but this notwithstanding, the Light Horse were ordered to
complete their victory. It was in this last rush that their daring
leader was struck down. The third position was actually taken; but the
disappearance of the light rather handicapped the gunners. The enemy was
re-inforced, and the remnants of the Light Horse were obliged to
evacuate the ground that had cost them so much.