The next morning a cloud of dust in our rear showed that we were being pursued.  Whilst we were hastily inspanning and upsaddling, Theron came in from the right, bringing with him a captured Hussar.  One old Boer, who had his little boy with him, brought the youngster up to the soldier and said—­

“Now, sonny, you’ve never seen an Englishman.  Here is one.  Look at him well; you must shoot lots of them yet.”

“Go away,” said one of the Boers, “what do you mean by staring at the man like that?  Don’t you know any better than to insult a helpless prisoner?”

“I’m sorry,” said the old man, turning away, “I don’t want to hurt his feelings; I only wanted to show my son the game he must track one day.”

The little boy cried when they led him away, saying—­

“I ’ants my ’ickle khaki, I ’ants my tame Englishman!”

“Don’t cry,” said the old man, “father will catch you some to-morrow.”

The little fellow’s eyes brightened with anticipation, and his tears gave way to smiles.  Sure enough his father came into camp a few days later driving before him two diminutive steeds bending beneath the weight of two corpulent khakis.  He called his son and said—­

“Now, sonny, here are the soldiers I promised you.”

The little fellow looked them over carefully.  Then his lower lip began to pout, and tears rolled down his cheeks.

“What’s the matter, my son,” asked the astonished father, “doesn’t he like his khakis?”

“No, daddy,” replied the little chap, striving with his tears.

“Why not, my lad?”

Then the child’s restraint gave way, and he burst out—­

“Oh, daddy, they’re not—­sob—­real—­sob—­soldiers at all!”

They were two of the C.I.V.

But to return.  As soon as the waggons were ready they were sent on along the winding valley, whilst the horsemen and artillery took up a position on a neighbouring hill and awaited the British attack.  This took the form of continuous shelling until sundown.  As soon as darkness fell the horsemen took a short cut and rejoined the waggons, which in the meantime had gained a considerable start.  President Steyn and his secretary accompanied De Wet during the day and had a taste of the enemy’s shell-fire.  When we asked the secretary that evening how he had liked the ordeal he said he could hardly describe his feelings whilst it lasted, but when the shelling ceased it was the heavenliest sensation of his life.  So if you want a heavenly sensation you know now how to get it.

We had an ambulance staff with us, but were sometimes obliged to leave our wounded behind, because we knew very well the enemy would be only too glad to get hold of our doctors and deprive us of all medical help.