Paardeberg, the indescribable thunder of bombardment. That sound gave us
all the more reason for haste. We allowed our horses the shortest
possible time for rest, partook of the most hurried of breakfasts, and
at once were again on the move, with the frightful roar of the guns
always in our ears.

About half-past four that afternoon, we reached a point some six miles
to the east of Paardeberg, and saw, on the right bank of the Modder
River, four miles to the north-east of the mountain, General Cronje's
laager. It was surrounded completely by the enemy, as a careful
inspection through our field-glasses showed.

Immediately in front of us were the buildings and kraals of
Stinkfontein, and there on the opposite bank of the river stood
Paardeberg. To the left and to the right of it were khaki-coloured
groups dotted everywhere about--General Cronje was hemmed in on all
sides, he and his burghers--a mere handful compared with the encircling
multitude.

What a spectacle we saw! All round the laager were the guns of the
English, belching forth death and destruction, while from within it at
every moment, as each successive shell tore up the ground, there rose a
cloud--a dark red cloud of dust.

It was necessary to act--but how?

We decided to make an immediate attack upon the nearest of Lord Roberts'
troops, those which were stationed in the vicinity of Stinkfontein, and
to seize some ridges which lay about two and a half miles south-east of
the laager.