Beyond the plateau smashed waggons and dead animals lay
thickly. Great numbers of the Boer ponies had been killed; many were
still standing quietly waiting for their masters, lying dead above.
Pursuit was out of the question. The men were exhausted by their
efforts; they were wet to the skin by the rain that had for nine hours
come down unceasingly; they had had no food since the previous day, and
the tremendous climb had taxed their powers to the utmost. For a time
they cheered vociferously, the first joy of victory overcoming the
thought of their dead and wounded comrades, who had to be collected and
carried down. The loss had been severe, ten officers and thirty men had
been killed, twenty officers and a hundred and sixty-five men wounded;
and nine officers and two hundred and eleven men did not answer to the
roll-call. This loss was unaccountable.
Chris, as soon as the infantry advance began, had, after talking with
the others, agreed to set out in the direction in which the three
squadrons of cavalry had started in the morning with instructions to
work round, and be prepared to cut off the enemy's retreat. They had
with them some of the mounted infantry and a machine-gun.
As the whole Boer force would be concentrated on the hill, Chris thought
that there would be no danger in riding round, especially as, even had
the Boers posted a force to protect their line of retreat, he was
confident that the speed of his horses would prevent any chance of
capture.
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