Soon after leaving the Modder the sky grew black with clouds, the birds
hid themselves from view and the veldt-cricket ceased from his
monotonous chirrup. Then all at once the storm burst upon us. The
lightning played incessantly and sheets of rain blotted out the kopjes
and the veldt from view. It was in weather like this that our poor
fellows advanced through the darkness upon the Magersfontein trenches!
At Orange River we halted for some time, and somebody suggested a snake
hunt in the scrub, but no one seemed very keen about this form of sport.
The "ringhals" in the veldt are very deadly. I remember speaking to a
Kaffir about them and asking him if he had known of any fatal bites. He
replied, pathetically enough: "Yes, sah, a brudder of me--two hours, he
was dead--mudder and sister and me was there".
Near Enslin a most unhappy accident had occurred. A sentry of the
Shropshire had seen two figures advancing in the evening towards his
post, had challenged, and, failing to get the prescribed reply, had
fired off seven bullets into the two supposed Boers, who turned out to
be a sergeant and private of his own regiment. By a miracle both these
wounded men ultimately recovered, but while we were at Enslin we heard
that the poor sentry was absolutely prostrated by grief and horror over
the unfortunate affair.
At a station lower down a lighter incident took place.
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