Yah! Cowards! That's the Boer all over.

Look at them, lying down at a distance to pick us off.

I don't call that fighting.

Oh, Colonel, Colonel, this won't do!" He said the words to me, and the men within hearing laughed.

There was, however, good cause for Denham's words, the bullets beginning to fall about us, aimed from different directions; and it was quite plain that, if we stood grouped together in troops, it would not be long before a perfect hail of bullets would be pattering among us, many of them going straight to their goals, and decimating our little force, or worse.
The officers needed no telling; and in a few minutes we were off again, first in one direction, then in another, our leader giving up as hopeless the idea of making straight for any particular opening in the dense ranks, but picking out the smaller parties of the enemy--that is to say, mobs not more than double our own strength; and when we could get within striking distance they were punished and scattered like chaff before the wind, in spite of the scattered volleys they sent at us before they fled.
This could not last, of course, for it was always at the cost of some of our poor fellows and of many horses, who had to be left to fall into the enemy's hands.
At last we managed to charge home right into a body of our foes at least three times our strength--numerous enough, in fact, to surround us as we fought our way through them, thus rendering us more and more helpless; but our men fought desperately, till about half of the corps forced their way through, and, making an attempt to keep well in formation, dashed on.
I was with about a dozen quite fifty yards in the rear, half-mad with pain and excitement, for one of the Boers had clubbed his rifle in the midst of the melee and struck at my head.