playfellow, a lassie of some twelve summers, I was lost. She came to the
rescue. I was saved at the last moment: a few seconds more and I must
have perished in the deep.

In 1882 my parents, leaving Cape Colony in search of a new home in the
Orange Free State, settled down in the district of Ladybrand. It was,
however, decided that I should remain behind with an uncle. This uncle
was my godfather, and had promised to provide for my education. Having
no children, he made me his adopted son. However excellent these
arrangements might be, I resolved that I too should go to the Orange
Free State. I succeeded in persuading my brother, who had charge of the
waggons, to let me follow him on horseback under cover of darkness. I
left my uncle's home alone and at dusk on the third evening after my
brother's departure. How I felt, and in what condition I was, after
riding thirty-five miles on the bare back of a horse, I shall not
describe. My parents, who had gone ahead of the waggons, were not a
little astonished, and yet they were not angry, at the unexpected
appearance of the boy that was left behind.

On my arrival in the Free State it so happened that there was then a
dispute as to headship between two Barolong chiefs. This quarrel called
forth the intervention of the Free State Government. The burghers were
commandoed in the event of resistance on the part of the native chiefs;
and I, though a mere boy, at once offered my services to the nearest
Field Cornet. He declined to accept them on the score that I was too
young. Like David, I was loth to go back home. I borrowed an old gun,
got a horse, and off I stole to the Boer commando. The dispute was
amicably settled. Some thirty Barolongs, however, offered resistance.
Most eagerly I thus fired my first shot upon a human being. I did not
know then that it would not be the last; that I should live to hear the