had not far to travel; and they did not go far when
they crossed over, for the Oliphantsfontein camp blocked
the way. The Boers were awake, but the audacity
of the raid would appear to have deprived them for
the moment of their visual senses. The Light Horse
drew quite close ere the propriety of halting was suggested
to them. The suggestion was naturally expected
to issue in the first instance from the cannon’s
mouth; but the guns said nothing, and their silence
emboldened our fellows to persist in their breach of
etiquette until they made a startling discovery, namely,
that the guns had been removed. This unexpected
slice of luck so inspired the invaders that they advanced
rapidly and drove out the enemy, whose resistance was
feeble. A general inspection followed; the pantries
and cupboards of the houses around were the objects
of a special scrutiny, but not a bone, not an egg,
not a crust was found! In one house a Boer lance
with a white rag for pennon was picked up. This
curio was carried back to town, and ultimately became
the property of an enterprising curiosity shop-keeper,
who cut artistic bullet holes in the pennon with his
scissors—thereby adding largely to its curiousness.
The bullets that made the holes were also a good line,
and “sold” well (in fact, everybody).
Nothing else occurred to make Friday noteworthy.
Saturday completed the round dozen weeks of siege
life. How many more were to follow? Alas!
our seers were discredited. They were silent;
but hollow though time had branded their vaticinations
the silence of the seers was not exactly golden.
The prevailing pessimism was heart-breaking.
At a critical stage, when a cheerful optimism was almost
essential to the preservation of one’s mental
balance, we were tactlessly stuffed with the “lone
lorn” lamentations of a Mrs. Gummidge.
But Roberts was coming, and he was a “great”
soldier—far greater than Wellington, or
even Napoleon (a mere Corsican!) We hungered for news
of his plans. Roberts, we took it, was not the
man to sanction the alleged intentions of his subordinates—the
callous mediocrities who would let Kimberley work
out its own salvation. It was reported at this
time—for the better security of our peace
of mind—that a grand march was to be made
on Bloemfontein, while Kimberley was to live on air
and fight away.
In the afternoon a balloon appeared in the air.
It attracted much attention, and set everybody speculating
on what its business in the air precisely was.
Our nautical experts (who had been at sea for three
weeks anyhow) opined that it was “steering”
for the Diamond Fields. It must have collided
with a “Castle,” for it never came into
port.