We were now between two columns. We rode on as quietly as we could,
hardly a whisper was heard. The slightest noise on our part could betray
our presence. We were so close to the front column that we could
distinctly hear the rumbling of wheels and the tramp of horses. Should
the progress of the column be in any way obstructed, hereby causing a
standstill, the one at our rear would inevitably press us upon the front
one. What cold drops of perspiration rolled over my forehead! How I held
my breath! Who shall describe the anxiety of such moments? There was but
one way open--the way to the stars and the Throne beyond the stars.
Before and behind us the foe, on both sides mountains, so steep and
rugged that it would be folly even to attempt to climb them. Wistfully
we looked up.

After riding some distance we met a native that belonged to the front
column. He had tarried a little too long. We addressed him in English,
and thus put him off the scent altogether. Mistaking us for English, he
told us all he knew about the different columns. In this way we rode
along, gradually approaching the extremity of the two ranges. Out at
last! How relieved we felt can hardly be imagined. Once more we breathed
freely. The poor native! How startled he was when he discovered his
mistake, and learnt that he was then a prisoner, and had to accompany
us.

On the 13th of October, 1901, the enemy had very ingeniously laid a trap
for me, and had almost drawn me into it.

At that time we were in the district of Wepener, a village on the
Basutoland border. Several British columns were then operating in that
district. As so many were concentrated there, it was extremely hazardous