to click his heels together, turn his toes to an acute angle, stiffen his
back, and salute every time an officer runs against him. He could not
properly perform any of the very simplest military evolutions common to all
European soldiers if his immortal welfare depended upon it. That is why he
is such a failure as an attacking agent. Still, in spite of these things,
the Boer on commando has to submit to very rigid laws. The penalty for
outrage, or attempted outrage, on a woman is instant death on conviction,
no matter what the woman's nationality may be. For sleeping on sentry duty
the punishment is unique; it is a punishment born of long dwelling in the
wilderness. It is of such a nature that no man who has once undergone it is
calculated ever to forget. When a clear case is made out against a burgher
by trial before his commandant the whole commando in laager is summoned to
witness the criminal's reward. He is taken out beyond the lines to a spot
where the sun shines in all its unprotected fierceness. He is led to an
ant-hill full of busy, wicked, little crawlers; the top of the ant-hill is
cut off with a spade, leaving a honeycombed surface for the sleepy one to
stand upon (not much fear of him sleeping whilst he is there). He is
ordered to mount the hill and stand with feet close together. His rifle is
placed in his hands, the butt resting between his toes, the muzzle clasped
in both hands. Two men are then told off to watch him. They are picked men,
noted for their stern, unyielding sense of duty and love for the cause they
fight for.

These guards lie down in the veldt twenty-five yards away from the victim.
They have their loaded Mausers with them, and their orders are, if the
prisoner lifts a leg, to put a bullet into it; if he lifts an arm, a bullet
goes into that defaulting member; if he jumps down from his perch
altogether, the leaden messengers sent from both rifles will cancel all his
earthly obligations. The sun shines down in savage mockery; it strikes upon
the bare neck of the quivering wretch, who dare not lift a hand to shift