although my brother and I had only one horse apiece, we often had to do
the hardest work.

My aunt and uncle did their best to make our stay a pleasant one, and
our horses were well fed. Soon General Ben Viljoen's commando arrived at
Marabastad, and stayed there a few weeks, so that we also experienced
the discomfort arising from a lager camped on one's farm. The Boer is
deprived by it of all necessaries, and all sorts and conditions of men
constantly visit his house. Some of them, the riff-raff of the commando,
are very unwelcome guests, for they do much mischief intentionally, and
thereby give the commando a very bad name. The poles to which the wire
is attached for camping at a farm were yet left undamaged. The burghers
were still accustomed to get plenty of dry wood in the Boschveld, and
were not yet so demoralized as to work damage without scruple.

We stayed at my uncle's far longer than we at first intended. My saddle
had chafed the horse's back so severely that I could not ride it for
several months. My brother got an attack of malaria, and just as he was
recovering had a relapse, so that President Steyn was so far in advance
of us that there was no question of overtaking him.

The commando had already left Marabastad when we started for
Tweefontein, near Warmbad, on our now strong, sleek horses. There we
joined Commandant Kemp, of the Krugersdorp commando, under Wyk III., who
had parted from Ben Viljoen at Marabastad because the latter had on a
Sunday afternoon during service fired off several cannon-shots for the
edification of a few fast women.

Malherbe, my brother, and I formed a sort of comradeship under Corporal
Botman--or, to put it simply, we were 'chums.' At Warmbad we heard many