The destruction of the railway-line afforded us much fun.  There were burghers who dreaded this kind of work much more than actual fighting.  They would rather get into the firing-line than go to the railway-line.  They feared nothing so much as to handle a charge of dynamite, by which the destruction was usually accomplished.  To prevent any accidents, a whistle was blown as a signal to apply the lights to all the fuses at once, so that the men could all withdraw to a safe distance before the explosion took place.  On one occasion a burgher, intentionally or out of fright, lit his fuse while the others were still engaged depositing their charges under the rails.  The surprise of the rest on seeing the fuse alight took the form of helter-skeltering away, some rushing against the railway fence, others almost breaking their necks over ant-heaps, while some only got away a few yards before the explosion took place.  Fortunately none were injured, and when all was over they laughed heartily over their own disorderly retreat.

After we had blown up the line we went to a farm about three miles away.  As we halted in front of the door, the farmer’s wife—­her husband had been deported—­came out.  The old lady appeared very agitated; she begged us kindly to leave as soon as possible.  It seemed she was entertaining three English soldiers as guests that night, and was anxious that we should not disturb their slumbers, which action would get her into trouble.  “Oh, do go,” she said, “for if you disturb these sleeping guests, I also will be prosecuted and sent to India.”  Poor soul!  She was doing her best to protect her visitors, not because she cared so much for them, but for fear of the consequences should we lay hands on them.  We could not, however, listen to her plea.  We did not want Tommy himself, but only his rifle and ammunition.  Hence we went to their room and found them sharing one bed.  It was midnight and so they did not expect us at all.  Imagine their feelings on realizing that armed Boers surrounded their bed!  Their complete helplessness, as they lay undressed and unarmed, caused the burghers to indulge in hearty laughter.  To silence their fears we assured them that they need not dread any evil, we would soon dismiss them.

Our military councils were frequently occasions of humour—­a grim humour which could only appeal to the Boer, made grim by the treachery of fellow-Dutchmen.

At the beginning of the war some, especially the uninitiated, dreaded nothing more than a war council.  To such it was a body of men invested with unlimited power, a council that could pronounce sentence of death on whomsoever they wished.  To appear before this august assembly meant almost certain death.  Now sometimes it meant that, but more often not.  For one reason or another prisoners were for the time being brought in under a wrong impression of the character of the assembly.  Such was the case with two farmers in the district of Trompsburg, Orange River Colony.