officer, who, roaming about the village, had been attracted by our
revelry. He was evidently no follower of the expand-or-burst policy of
the British Cabinet.

This appropriate interpellation put an end to the proceedings. We set
off, unarmed, as we had sent our Mausers back to the Transvaal some time
before, and mounted on a pair of nags that were plainly unfit to make
the journey. Long before we reached Frankfort, in fact, my companion's
horse gave in. We rode to a farmer's house near the road to try and find
another mount. A boy of thirteen was the only male person on the farm.
Yes, he had a pony. Would he exchange it for ours, and take something to
boot? No fear, what he wanted was cash. How much? Thirteen pounds. But
thirteen is an unlucky number; better take twelve. In that case, he
would prefer to take fourteen. The pony was worth the price, the cash
changed hands, and we continued our journey. Some miles from Frankfort
we met two Boers, who told us that they had also meant to return to the
Transvaal, but had heard that the enemy were so close to Frankfort that
they had decided to turn back. We determined to continue, however, and
shortly after dark we cautiously entered the village. The enemy had not
yet arrived, but were expected early the next morning. We consulted one
of our friends in the village, who advised us to try and cross the
railway near Standerton. We decided to follow his advice, and left early
the next morning. A few miles out of town we observed several horsemen
to our left. Fearing these were British, we swerved to the right,
cutting across country. Keeping a good look-out, we continued our way
till evening, when we were overtaken by a farmer driving a cart. He was
lame and had never been on commando, but on the approach of the British
columns had left his home to their mercy. He conducted us to the modest
cottage of his brother-in-law, where we found a bed for ourselves and
stabling for our horses. Before sunrise the next morning we were again