On crossing the railway near Honingspruit we captured a train.  From the newspapers taken out of the mail-bags we learnt that we were being closely pressed, and that hopes were entertained of our speedy capture.  We did not grudge the papers the pleasures of hope; what we objected to was their crocodile tears over us poor misguided, ignorant burghers, who were too stupid to see the beauty of becoming exultant British subjects, like the Irish.  We also learnt that Steyn was ill, that he was hiding on a farm near Heilbron, that he was a prisoner in De Wet’s camp, that his mind had given way, that he wouldn’t let De Wet surrender, that De Wet wouldn’t let the burghers surrender, that the burghers wouldn’t let Steyn surrender, ad fin. ad nauseam.

As we had a distinct object in view, i.e. to bring Steyn to Kruger, we generally preferred to avoid unnecessary engagements.  But we could show our teeth when we liked.  We were laagered near Vredefort one day when the pursuers made a sudden dash forward, coming within a mile or so before they were observed.  On this occasion there was no hasty flight.  The cattle continued peacefully grazing around the waggons, whilst the horsemen went to meet the enemy.  There was a brief exchange of shells, and then our men charged with such good effect that the British were forced to retire.  They followed us at a more respectful distance after that.

De Wet kept his plans so secret that very few knew for certain whither we were bound.  The President called me into his tent one morning and asked me a few questions about the roads near Balmoral, where the Transvaal Government was at that time.  I happened to have a map with me, and so was able to supply the desired information.  He then told me to take a couple of heliographists and try to get into communication with one of the Transvaal commandoes near Potchefstroom.

We climbed one of the numerous hills lying around and called up towards Potchefstroom, but got no reply.  As we sat chatting, keeping our eyes fixed on the dark ridges in the distance, one of my companions remarked—­

“This reminds me of a fine trick I played on the English a few months ago.  We were trekking along quietly one day when I observed a heliograph glitter on a hill about ten miles away.  I at once fixed my instrument, and soon learnt that it was a British helio post.  I sent him a heliogram saying that we were a small party of British in danger of capture, and asking that an escort should be sent to bring us in.  The next day the escort walked into our arms!  We took the rifles and let the prisoners go—­about a hundred men.  The next day the British heliographist called me up again and reproached me for telling him such a deliberate lie!”

“And what did you reply?”

“Oh, I said, ‘g.t.l.’; you know what that means!”