The Boers turned an automatic Maxim on the burying party, thinking they were digging earthworks.

In the wooded valley at the foot of the hill they themselves, under Geneva flags, were searching the bushes and dongas for their own dead, and disturbing the little wild deer beside the stream.

On the summit parties of our own men were still engaged unwillingly in finding the Boer dead and carrying them down the cliff.
Just at the edge of the summit, to which he had climbed in triumph, lay the body of a man about twenty.

A shell had almost cut him in half....
Only his face and his hands were untouched.

Like most of the dead he had the blue eyes and light hair of the well-bred Boer.