hailed him and asked him where he was off to. He told us he belonged to
a party of half a dozen Boers, who, hidden just over the hill, had sent
him to see what we were. We ordered him to lead us thither. When we
approached the spot it was to find the men all on their feet, rifles
loaded and cocked, ready to lay us low should we prove to be Englishmen.
We lost no time in dissipating their fears. They explained that they
belonged to the commando which had been lying here, and which only the
day before had retired on the approach of the enemy. They themselves,
having been on a visit to their farms near by, had got left behind. I
at once suspected that they meant to lay down their arms, but it would
never have done to say so, so I contented myself with demanding their
advice as to the best way of rejoining the aforesaid commando. They were
not very anxious to rejoin it themselves, and consequently represented
the matter as being extremely difficult. At length they showed us a farm
near the British camp, and recommended our going thither, as the people
there would be able to give us all possible help. We reached the farm
just after sunset to the accompaniment of barking dogs and hissing
geese. The door was opened by a feeble old man, who, with his equally
aged wife, were apparently the only occupants of the place. As soon as
it was evident that we were friends, however, two strapping sons made
their appearance from a kopje behind the house, where the clatter of our
horses' hoofs had caused them to take refuge. They informed us that they
had followed the enemy's movements throughout the day, and that the line
was so well guarded that our getting through was extremely unlikely. But
we could sleep there that night, and the next morning we could see what
was to be done.

During the evening the old father recounted, with much humour, his
experience of Theron's merry band. How they had come there in the
middle of the night, knocked him up, stabled their horses in his yard,