“Can you give me anything to eat?” I asked the telegraphist, one of our most capable men.

“Very sorry,” he answered; “I’ve been here for a week, and no one has troubled to send me any food.  I’ve managed to get a loaf of bread from that farm yonder now and then, but their supply is exhausted, and I don’t know what to do next.”

“Why don’t you ask the President’s party for food?  We all know they fare well enough.”

“I’ve sent them message after message, but can get no satisfaction.  All they think about is the amount of work they can get out of me.  Little they care what my troubles are!”

This was really a shameful state of affairs, and I began to grow disgusted with the whole business.  Not satisfied with refusing to supply him with food, a passing commando had stolen his cart-horses, so that he had no means of leaving the spot.

It was a clear case of selfish and brutal neglect.  I condoled with the poor fellow, and rode back to the laager.  De Wet was still absent.  It appeared that we were going to lie there for days, instead of the whole expedition being over in a day or two.  After thinking the matter over, I decided to return to Frankfort and carry out my intention of going back to the Transvaal.  Upon reaching Frankfort I explained the matter to the Postmaster-General, adding that the expedition would probably take a couple of weeks, by which time the Free State would already be cut off from the Transvaal, and my return rendered impossible.  He urged upon me, however, to postpone my departure.  During the day a telegram arrived from De Wet, saying he had now decided to move forward, and asking that I should accompany him.  So convinced was I that his attempt would end in a fiasco, in spite of his knowledge of the enemy’s movements, that I persuaded the chief to send another in my place.  De Wet was extremely annoyed, but I was foolish enough to insist.  Judge of my regret when, a week or so later, we heard of the magnificent blow delivered at Roodewal.  After this sudden swoop De Wet returned to the vicinity of Heilbron.  The chief and I drove out to his camp.  It was interesting to see his entire band clad in complete khaki, with only the flapping, loose-hanging felt hats to show their nationality.  Wristlets, watches, spy-glasses, chocolate, cigarettes, were now as common as in ordinary times they were rare.  Heliographic and telegraphic instruments by the cartload.  No doubt about it, Roodewal came at an opportune moment.  Roberts was pressing Botha hard in front, and this stunning blow at his lines of communication compelled him to pause.  Think of his forces fighting through that rigorous winter, wearing only their summer uniforms!  No wonder their ardour grew cool!