At Half-Past Three In The Morning,
Well Before Daylight, The Mounted Infantry Picket At The Junction
Of The Roads From Landmans And Vants Drifts Was Fired Into By The
Doornberg Commando, And Retired Upon Its Supports.
Two companies of
the Dublin Fusiliers were sent out, and at five o'clock on a fine
but misty morning the whole of Symons's force was under arms with
the knowledge that the Boers were pushing boldly towards them.
The
khaki-clad lines of fighting men stood in their long thin ranks
staring up at the curves of the saddle-back hills to the north and
east of them, and straining their eyes to catch a glimpse of the
enemy. Why these same saddle-back hills were not occupied by our
own people is, it must be confessed, an insoluble mystery. In a
hollow on one flank were the 18th Hussars and the mounted infantry.
On the other were the eighteen motionless guns, limbered up and
ready, the horses fidgeting and stamping in the raw morning air.
And then suddenly - could that be they? An officer with a telescope
stared intently and pointed. Another and another turned a steady
field glass towards the same place. And then the men could see
also, and a little murmur of interest ran down the ranks.
A long sloping hill - Talana Hill - olive-green in hue, was
stretching away in front of them. At the summit it rose into a
rounded crest. The mist was clearing, and the curve was
hard-outlined against the limpid blue of the morning sky.
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