St. John was immediately afterwards shot through
the head and lay dead on the top of the kopje, side by side with the man
he had killed.
When our train, after its journey to Capetown, next returned to Belmont,
few signs of the recent engagement were visible. The strands of wire
fencing on either side the line were cut through here and there, and
twisted back several yards where our fifteen-pounders had been galloped
through to shell the retreating Boers. Now and again the eye was caught
by little heaps of cartridge cases marking the spot where some soldier
had lain down.
Less pleasant reminiscences were furnished by the decomposing bodies of
several mules, and four or five vultures wheeling over the plain. Some
enthusiasts on our train had on the previous journey cut off several
hoofs from the dead mules as relics of the fight. Our under-cook had
secured a more agreeable souvenir of Belmont in the shape of a small
goat found wandering beside the railway. This animal now struts about a
garden in Capetown with a collar suitably inscribed around its neck, and
the proud owner has refused a L10 note for it. Before their abandonment
of the position the enemy had hurriedly buried a few of their dead, but
it is very difficult to dig amongst the stones and boulders, and the
interment was so inadequate that hands and feet were protruding from the
soil.
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