July 18.—­Reveille at six, and harnessed up; but did nothing all the morning but graze the horses, and at twelve unharness and groom them.  I believe we have to take it in turn with the 38th to be in readiness for instant departure.  Firing is heard at intervals.  We are, I believe, about twenty miles from Senekal, eighteen from Bethlehem, and thirty from Lindley.  We call the place Bultfontein, from a big farm near, where the General has his head-quarters.  Water is bad here; a thick, muddy pool, used also by cattle and horses.

There has been some to-do about the sugar, and we now draw it separately ourselves, two ounces, and find it goes further.  There is enough for the morning mealy porridge, which is very nasty without it.

July 19.—­Reveille at six.  Harnessed up.  Cleaning lines, and grazing all the morning.  Grazing is now practically a standing order in all spare time.  I believe it is necessary for the horses; but it acts as an irksome restraint on the men.  When not on the move, we have the three stable-hours as in a standing camp, and often “grouse” over them a good deal; but the horses are certainly in wonderfully good condition with the care taken of them.  The weather is warmer.  Frost at night, but no dew; and a hot sun all the windless, cloudless day.

Visited a pile of loot taken by some 38th men, and got a lump of home-made Boer soap, in exchange for some English tobacco.  It has a fatty smell, but makes a beautiful white lather.  They had all sorts of household things, and a wag was wearing a very piquante piece of female head-gear.  In the afternoon I got leave away, and washed in the muddy pool aforesaid.  It seems odd that it can clean one; but it does.  On the way back found a nigger killing a sheep, and bought some fat, which is indispensable in our cooking; if there is any over, we boil it and use it as butter.  We cooked excellent mealy cakes in it in the evening.  “We don’t know where we are” to-day; we had mutton, rice, and cheese for dinner!

July 20.—­Harnessed up as usual at dawn, and “stood by” all the morning.  The rumour now is that De Wet never went to Lindley at all, but only a small commando, and that he is at Ficksburg, fifty miles away on the Basuto border.  What an eel of a man!

Clements’s brigade arrived to-day from somewhere, and is just visible, camped a few miles away.  The biscuit ration was raised from three to four and a half to-day.  Five is the full number.  Rations are good now.  Cooked mutton is served out at night, and also a portion of raw mutton.  Drawing rations is an amusing scene.  It is always done in the dark, and the corporal stands at the pot doling out chunks.  It is a thrilling moment when you investigate by touch the nature of the greasy, sodden lump put into your hand; it may be all bone, with frills of gristle on it, or it may be good meat.  Complaints are useless; a ruthless hand sweeps you away, and the queue closes up.  Later on,