_(4 P.M.)_--We are slowly getting on, covering the convoy's rear, the
enemy pressing hard. Our guns are now firing over our dismounted
troops. Williams has just ridden up. He has been orderly to the
Captain; a shell fell just by his horse without bursting. I have been
fearfully sleepy, and have snatched a few minutes of oblivion, during
halts, on the ground by my horses, who are as tired as I am, poor
beasts.

_(Written later.)_--The Boers, as it seemed to me (but what does one
know?), had us in a very tight place, but they never pressed home
their attack, and the convoy was rushed through the remaining seven
miles to Lindley. We covered its retirement till dark, and then
followed it with all speed. I shan't forget those seven miles. They
included the worst drifts of the whole journey, and getting up and
down them in pitch-dark was unpleasant work and a pretty severe test
of driving. Three mule-waggons of the convoy had to be abandoned at
one place, but the rest of it reached Lindley safely, as did we. It
was rather like making a port after a storm when the lights appeared
and a bugle blowing "first post" was heard. We passed some silent
houses, groped into an open space, picketed horses, chucked off
harness, and slept by it, dog-tired. We had hoped for a good night's
rest, but, the last thing, orders went round for reveillé at four.

_June 28._--It was icy cold at 4 A.M., and one's fingers could hardly
cope with straps and links. I had done one horse, when welcome orders
came that my waggon was not wanted. So I sat by the cook's fire and
cooked in the lid of my mess-tin a slice of meat I had hastily hacked
from an ox's carcase at our last camp. Also some Maggi soup. About
sunrise the limbers returned, having left the guns and gunners in