“It’s of no use, major,” said the colonel at last, as they stood together; “they mean to have the place.”
“What!” said the latter officer fiercely. “You don’t mean surrender?”
“My dear fellow, no: not while there’s a cartridge left.”
“Ha!” sighed the major. “You gave me quite a turn.”
“I meant, if this keeps on we shall lose as many men as if we brought it to a head. Besides, they’ll hold on to the parts they’ve got, and keep creeping nearer.”
“You mean the bayonet at once?”
“Exactly,” said the colonel. “Off with you; take one side and I’ll take the other. We must clear the kopje before the heat comes on.”
“Yes,” said the major, with a grim smile; “and the lads must want their breakfast now.”
The men in each trench rolled up their sleeves as they heard the order given to fix bayonets again, and, leaping over the defences, rushed forward, to be staggered a little by the enemy’s fire; then, with a cheer, on they went, the sun glistening upon the line of pointed steel.
It was more than the Boers could bear; defence after defence was vacated, and, soon after, the result of charge after charge was followed by a headlong flight which soon spread into a panic. It was “Sauve qui peut,” uttered in Boer Dutch; while the failure of the daring attack was completed fast by the emptying of the rifle magazines among flying men, and the shots from the three guns, which had their opportunity at last.