[Footnote: Later information makes it certain that the cavalry did report the presence of the enemy to Lord Methuen.] On the morning of Tuesday, November 28th, the British troops were told that they would march at once, and have their breakfast when they reached the Modder River--a grim joke to those who lived to appreciate it.
The army had been reinforced the night before by the welcome addition of the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, which made up for the losses of the week.

It was a cloudless morning, and a dazzling sun rose in a deep blue sky.

The men, though hungry, marched cheerily, the reek of their tobacco-pipes floating up from their ranks.

It cheered them to see that the murderous kopjes had, for the time, been left behind, and that the great plain inclined slightly downwards to where a line of green showed the course of the river.

On the further bank were a few scattered buildings, with one considerable hotel, used as a week-end resort by the businessmen of Kimberley.