great lonely pasture-plain we are travelling slowly through looks
wonderfully pleasant.

But I must go back.

Yesterday afternoon things looked profoundly settled. I walked down to
town with a lot of clothes, and left them to be washed by a nigger,
and also left my watch to be mended. But when I got back to "stables"
it was announced that we were to leave for Kroonstadt that night.
There was great joy, though I fear it means nothing. It's true De Wet
and some rebels have been giving trouble round there, and even held up
a train, and captured a battalion of militia not long ago; but I
believe it's all over now. It was soon dark, and camp had to be struck
and horses harnessed in the dark. I got leave, ran down to town and
fetched up my unwashed clothes, and put most of them on there and
then. There was the usual busy scene of packing kit, striking tents,
drawing rations, filling water-bottles; the whole scene lit up by
blazing bonfires of rubbish. In leaving a camp no litter may be left;
it has to be left as clean as the surrounding veldt. At nine hot
coffee was served out, and at 9.45 "boot and saddle" went. Harnessing
in pitch dark is not very easy, unless you have everything exactly
where you can lay your hand on it.

We marched down to the station, and unharnessed near the platform in a
deposit of thick mud. Entraining lasted all night, the mules and
buck-waggons giving a lot of trouble. Some exciting loose-mule-hunts
round the station in the dark. Hours of shoving, hauling, lifting,
slamming. At last all was in but ourselves. There were evidently no
carriages, so we hurriedly shovelled our kit and ourselves into the
open gun-trucks, squirming into cracks and corners; and at 6.30 A.M.