stable, filled the crib with fodder, overhauled the vibrator, packed my
saddle-bags, and went to bed.

Early the next morning I started, making straight for the intermediate
station.

After three hours' riding I met a mounted policeman riding at full
speed, or the best imitation of it that his mount could produce. "The
English are coming!" was all he uttered as he passed by. When I reached
the farmhouse I heard shots falling just beyond the hill. The womenfolk
on the farm were in a pitiful state of distress. They had ornamented the
roof of the house with a white flag, following the custom then
prevailing in those parts threatened by the enemy.

"They've been fighting all the morning," they said, wiping their eyes,
"and now our men are retreating. Whatever will become of us?"

I stabled my horse, walked to the fence, attached the vibrator, and
called up Heilbron. No reply. The line was down again!

This discovery put me into a pretty bad temper. Presently about a dozen
Boers came galloping along from the fighting line. On seeing me, the
leader reined in and shouted--

"What the devil is this? What are you doing here?" He took me for an
Englishman, and thought this a good opportunity to gain distinction.
Thoroughly roused by his bullying tone, I retorted--

"And who the devil are you? And where the devil are you running away to
in such a hurry?"