During the afternoon it was reported to me that a strong column of English were marching from Rhenosterriviersbrug to Vredefort, and that they had camped on the farm Klipstapel, some eight miles from my laager.
Shortly after sunrise the following morning a second report was brought to me. It appeared that the enemy had sent out a force to capture our grain waggons, and had nearly overtaken them.
In an instant we were in our saddles, but we were too late to save our corn.
When the enemy saw us they halted at once; and meanwhile the waggons hurried on, at their utmost speed, to our camp.
The English numbered between five and six hundred men, whilst we were only four hundred. But although we were the smaller force, I had no intention of allowing our waggons to be captured without a shot, and I ordered my burghers to charge.
It was an open plain; there was no possible cover either for us or for the English. But we could not consider matters of that sort.
The burghers charged magnificently, and some even got to within two hundred paces of the enemy. They then dismounted, and, lying flat upon the ground, opened a fierce fire. One of the hottest fights one can imagine followed.
Fortunately a few paces behind the burghers there was a hollow, and here the horses were placed.
After an hour's fighting, I began to think that any moment the enemy might be put to rout. But then something happened which had happened very often before—a reinforcement appeared.
This reinforcement brought two guns with it; thus nothing was left to me but retreat. Our loss was five killed and twelve wounded. What the loss of the English was I do not know, but if the Kaffirs who lived near there are to be trusted, it must have been considerable.