puzzled manner, as though we had dropped from Mars. I know not what my
companion thought of it, or if he thought at all, but I myself put the
old man's strange manner down to a sort of speechless admiration, and
accepted it as such. But I was mistaken.

When our friend shook hands with us he did so very limply, and as far as
we went he could be seen gazing after us.

"What ails him?" I asked my comrade.

"Oh, he doesn't see men like ourselves every day," was the careless
answer. How could I argue?

We kept on our way, and towards sundown reached a farm on the bank of
the Vaal, simultaneously with another young fellow coming from the
direction of the railway line.

It turned out that this farm belonged to his father. He himself had left
home that morning with the intention of crossing the railway, but had
found the line so well patrolled that he had given up the attempt. We
stabled our horses and entered the small but comfortably furnished
cottage, where we were presented to the other members of the family.
After supper came the usual evening service. This was hardly over when
we heard a loud knocking at the front door. The door was opened, and the
strange-mannered old field-cornet entered.

He greeted us solemnly and sat down. Next came a thundering rap at the
back door, and another Boer entered, a tall, powerful fellow, who was
foaming at the mouth with suppressed excitement, and bristling with
cartridge belts.