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Two divisions of burghers with a 15-pounder and a pom-pom were approaching the station from north and east, while a commando, under Field-Cornet Duvenhage, which had been called upon to strengthen the attack, was to occupy an important position in the south before the enemy could take it up, for during the night it was still unoccupied.
A school-house set beneath the shelter of great oaks was the center of motion and sound. On one side of it the teams stood shaking their bells under their insufficient blankets, making a soft chorus of fitful trills heard in the pauses of the merry shrieks of the boys playing "pom-pom pullaway" across the road before the house, which radiated light and laughter.
For some hours the little party was hard pressed by the burghers, who had two field-pieces and a pom-pom. They could make no impression, however, upon the steady Irish infantry, and after some hours the arrival of General Hart with reinforcements scattered the assailants, who succeeded in getting their guns away in safety.
"She ought to be here, it's time. Winnie usually brings her for her afternoon visit to her proud parents. And here she comes! Here's mudder's own Poggly-woggly Pom-pom head!" "What delightful names you invent! Let me have a try at it! Here's Fodder's own Piggly-winktum! There, how's that?" "Perfectly horrid! Sounds like a pig!" "All right, let's try again. Who's the airiest, fairiest, tiny mite?
"Sounds to me like a played-out phonograph," said the shaggy man, lifting his enormous ears to listen. "Oh, there just COULDN'T be a funnygraf in Fairyland!" cried Dorothy. "It's rather pretty, isn't it?" asked Polychrome, trying to dance to the strains. Tiddle-widdle-iddle, oom pom-pom, Oom pom-pom; oom pom-pom! came the music to their ears, more distinctly as they drew nearer the house.
The smell of the lyddite was awful. A pom-pom and twenty prisoners, including the commander of the police, were the trophies of the day. An outwork of the Boer position had been carried, and the rumour of defeat and disaster had already spread through their ranks.
The pom-pom too which we could only get to fire one or two shells all day long, owing to the gunner having to potter about for two or three hours after each shot to try and repair it to our great surprise suddenly commenced booming away, and the two pieces I was going to say the "mysterious" pieces poured a stream of murderous steel into the assailants, which made them waver and then retire, leaving many comrades behind.
Our 15-pounder, one of the guns we had captured from the English, fired six shells on the enemy at the station, when it burst, while the pom-pom after having sent some bombs through the station buildings, also jammed.
A lyddite shell suddenly burst over our very heads. Four burghers with me were blown to pieces and my rifle was smashed. It seemed to me as if a huge cauldron of boiling fat had burst over us and for some minutes I must have lost consciousness. I ordered my men to fall back and took charge of the pom-pom, and we then retired under a heavy rifle and gun fire.
She was dazzled and excited when Mr. Schwirtz took her to the opening of the Champs du Pom-Pom, the latest potpourri of amusements on Broadway. All under one roof were a super-vaudeville show, a smart musical comedy, and the fireworks of one-act plays; a Chinese restaurant, and a Louis Quinze restaurant and a Syrian desert-caravan restaurant; a ballroom and an ice-skating rink; a summer garden that, in midwinter, luxuriated in real trees and real grass, and a real brook crossed by Japanese bridges. Mr. Schwirtz was tireless and extravagant and hearty at the Champs du Pom-Pom. He made Una dance and skate; he had a box for the vaudeville; he gave her caviar canapé and lobster
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