While at Nqutu we received news of the fall of Bloemfontein and the death of General Joubert, as well as of De Wet’s victory at Sanna’s Post, the latter the only bright gleam that relieved the daily darkening horizon of our future.

I now obtained a few days’ leave of absence.  My substitute left Glencoe early in the morning, accompanied by a mule waggon.  The trolley duly arrived at sundown, but the substitute was absent.  It appeared he had taken a short cut, as he thought, and had not been seen since.  Bethune’s mounted infantry was hanging about the neighbourhood, and we feared he might have been raked in.  At midnight, however, he made his appearance, wet to the skin, after wandering to and fro in the chilly mist for hours.  I immediately handed the books and cash over to him, and went to bed till four o’clock, when I saddled my horse and started for Glencoe, on leave and on my way home.  Carefully nursing my mount, I reached Dundee at noon.  After a short rest we went on, and reached Glencoe at one o’clock, none the worse for the morning’s ride of almost fifty miles.

Here I learnt that a plan was afoot to attack the British camp at Elandslaagte, which lay quite open and unprotected, as if it were part of an Earl’s Court exhibition.  When I left by train next morning our guns were already in action.

Not being pushed home, however, the attack did not amount to much, except for its moral effect upon our men.  It also gave the enemy the idea of finding a decent position for his camp.

Travelling with me in the train were several men on their way to the Free State, where our forces were being hard pressed.  Before leaving I had also sent in a request asking to be transferred thither, as Natal was becoming really too dull.

At first sight Johannesburg did not seem much altered, but on driving through the deserted streets, all the shops barricaded, and tramway idle, the difference between the bustling city of old and this silent shadow of its former self was only too evident.

Another difference that thrust itself upon the observation was the alteration which had lately taken place in the sentiments of the remaining Uitlander inhabitants.  These, upon their lavish protestations of friendship and fidelity, had been allowed to remain during the war.  In our triumphs their sympathy was ever with us, but when Cronje was captured, Ladysmith relieved, and Bloemfontein abandoned, their long-latent loyalty to the British Empire became too fervent to be restrained within the bounds of decency.  “Remnants” of red, white and blue were ostentatiously sewn into a distant resemblance of the British flag; the parlour piano once more did its often unsatisfactory best with the British anthem; mamma’s darling received strict injunctions not to play with that horrid little Dutch boy next door; and papa, jingling the sovereigns he had received in his latest deal with the Government, prepared to pat Lord Roberts on the back when he should enter the town.