very slow pace.  That evening we slept at a farmer’s house near the Vaal River.  Here we heard that there was a Boer commando lying near Greylingstad, and thither we directed our way.  As we rode through the Vaal the next morning we felt a genuine thrill of joy at setting our feet once more upon our own soil.  That afternoon Greylingstad came in sight, but what a bitter disappointment!  Instead of finding our own commandoes here, we found the place occupied by a large British force.  We reined in on the veld, gazed at the British camp, and then at each other.  To our left lay Heidelberg, to our right Standerton, both held by the enemy, and in front of us stood the tents of a British column at least five thousand strong!

Whilst we were still discussing the situation a Bushman mounted on a scraggy pony and seated on a sheepskin saddle came riding along.  We hailed him and asked him where he was off to.  He told us he belonged to a party of half a dozen Boers, who, hidden just over the hill, had sent him to see what we were.  We ordered him to lead us thither.  When we approached the spot it was to find the men all on their feet, rifles loaded and cocked, ready to lay us low should we prove to be Englishmen.  We lost no time in dissipating their fears.  They explained that they belonged to the commando which had been lying here, and which only the day before had retired on the approach of the enemy.  They themselves, having been on a visit to their farms near by, had got left behind.  I at once suspected that they meant to lay down their arms, but it would never have done to say so, so I contented myself with demanding their advice as to the best way of rejoining the aforesaid commando.  They were not very anxious to rejoin it themselves, and consequently represented the matter as being extremely difficult.  At length they showed us a farm near the British camp, and recommended our going thither, as the people there would be able to give us all possible help.  We reached the farm just after sunset to the accompaniment of barking dogs and hissing geese.  The door was opened by a feeble old man, who, with his equally aged wife, were apparently the only occupants of the place.  As soon as it was evident that we were friends, however, two strapping sons made their appearance from a kopje behind the house, where the clatter of our horses’ hoofs had caused them to take refuge.  They informed us that they had followed the enemy’s movements throughout the day, and that the line was so well guarded that our getting through was extremely unlikely.  But we could sleep there that night, and the next morning we could see what was to be done.

During the evening the old father recounted, with much humour, his experience of Theron’s merry band.  How they had come there in the middle of the night, knocked him up, stabled their horses in his yard, asked for bread, brod, brood; eggs, eiers, ejers, in all the dialects under the sun, how they had actually plucked the oranges from his trees, until he was forced to ask Theron to station a guard in the orchard!  But the next morning they had paid for everything, and ridden away, singing and shouting.