It was a supremely dashing attack against a supremely steady resistance, for among all their gallant deeds the Boers have never fought better than on that February evening.

Amid such a smashing shell fire as living mortals have never yet endured they stood doggedly, these hardy men of the veld, and fired fast and true into the fiery ranks of the Irishmen.

The yell of the stormers was answered by the remorseless roar of the Mausers and the deep-chested shouts of the farmers.

Up and up surged the infantry, falling, rising, dashing bull-headed at the crackling line of the trench.

But still the bearded faces glared at them over the edge, and still the sheet of lead pelted through their ranks.