on our way. Through the thick mist we saw several horsemen approach a
house standing solitary in the veld. They dismounted and entered the
dwelling. Anxious to know whether these were friends or foes, we rode
thither. Making as little noise as possible, we managed to gain the spot
unobserved, and found that they were Boers. They gave us each a cup of
steaming coffee, black and bitter, but none the less acceptable,
directed us on our way, and wished us good luck. Towards noon we reached
a hamlet named Cornelia, where we introduced ourselves to the leading
inhabitant, with whom we lunched. Here my horse refused to feed, showing
strong symptoms of _papies_. There was no help for it, however; he had
to carry me, sick or well. Some miles further we reached the house of an
English farmer. He had the consideration to conceal his satisfaction at
the approach of his countrymen and the kindness to doctor my horse for
me. The poor animal was in such a pitiable state that it could hardly
stand. After swallowing a dose of strychnine, however, it improved
wonderfully, and we were enabled to continue, but naturally at a very
slow pace. That evening we slept at a farmer's house near the Vaal
River. Here we heard that there was a Boer commando lying near
Greylingstad, and thither we directed our way. As we rode through the
Vaal the next morning we felt a genuine thrill of joy at setting our
feet once more upon our own soil. That afternoon Greylingstad came in
sight, but what a bitter disappointment! Instead of finding our own
commandoes here, we found the place occupied by a large British force.
We reined in on the veld, gazed at the British camp, and then at each
other. To our left lay Heidelberg, to our right Standerton, both held by
the enemy, and in front of us stood the tents of a British column at
least five thousand strong!

Whilst we were still discussing the situation a Bushman mounted on a
scraggy pony and seated on a sheepskin saddle came riding along. We