WOUNDED.

During the first days of August, 1901, the enemy seemed more determined than ever to effect my capture, or sweep me out of the Cape Colony, Very large forces concentrated on my commando, and pressed us so hard that our only safety lay in retreating to the Orange Free State.  So hot was the pursuit that for forty-eight hours our horses were not once off-saddled.

On the 14th we arrived on the banks of the Orange River, near to Venterstad.  We found the drift guarded by a small garrison of Hottentots that offered slight resistance.  After a short skirmish they surrendered, and we waded safely through the stream.  We were again on Free State soil, in our native land, where we knew almost every inch of the country.

Fording the river brought us no immediate relief; it rather increased our dangers.  For we were now between two railway lines, each strongly guarded by blockhouses, while the space between the two lines was so confined and limited, that (with columns at our rear) we could not venture to delay there a day or two.  So we had to cross one of these lines the same night.  We decided upon the Springfontein-Bethulie line and thither directed our steps.

At about 8 A.M. we came in sight of the line, at a point six miles from Springfontein Junction.  The sun had already risen.  It was a bright morning, but our prospects were dark and ominous.  We were confronted by a line studded with blockhouses and fenced in on both sides, while two armoured trains were belching forth clouds of steam and smoke in the distance.  Behind us, and not far to our rear, the British columns were drawing nearer.  We could but choose between two alternatives—­surrender, or cut the wire at any cost.  The former we could hardly give a thought; the latter must be done, and was successfully executed.

Our first attempt failed.  The burghers, who had no cover, retreated when fire was opened upon them from the blockhouses.  We fell back to a small hill not far from the line, and there we made up our minds that we shall cross.  Commandant Louis Wessels—­certainly one of the most intrepid and fearless officers of the whole Boer Army—­made direct for the two railway gates, near which a blockhouse had been erected.  These gates he opened, so that the burghers could proceed without any obstruction.  Then in the face of blockhouses on every side, guards and armoured trains, we passed over the line.  We were exposed to a shower of bullets, and to a terrific pom-pom fire, from the armoured train, but, to our amazement, without any effect.  But for a few horses shot down, we would have achieved our object without any losses.  The men marvelled and said Providence had protected them; the enemy probably attributed it to ill-luck and bad shooting.  Both may be correct.

While passing over the line one of the men, accidentally or out of fright, had dropped and left his gun behind.  He was ordered back, and had to pick it up under a storm of bullets.  We could not afford to leave rifles behind.  This was my first experience in crossing the British lines in daytime.  Some time later I was to have a similar experience, which, as far as my person was concerned, proved less successful, indeed, almost fatal.