Two rivers, the Riet and the Modder, intervened between French and Kimberley.  By daylight on the 12th the head of his force had reached Waterval Drift, which was found to be defended by a body of Boers with a gun.  Leaving a small detachment to hold them, French passed his men over Dekiel’s Drift, higher up the stream, and swept the enemy out of his position.  This considerable force of Boers had come from Jacobsdal, and were just too late to get into position to resist the crossing.  Had we been ten minutes later, the matter would have been much more serious.  At the cost of a very small loss he held both sides of the ford, but it was not until midnight that the whole long column was brought across, and bivouacked upon the northern bank.  In the morning the strength of the force was enormously increased by the arrival of one more horseman.  It was Roberts himself, who had ridden over to give the men a send-off, and the sight of his wiry erect figure and mahogany face sent them full of fire and confidence upon their way.

But the march of this second day (February 13th) was a military operation of some difficulty.  Thirty long waterless miles had to be done before they could reach the Modder, and it was possible that even then they might have to fight an action before winning the drift.  The weather was very hot, and through the long day the sun beat down from an unclouded sky, while the soldiers were only shaded by the dust-bank in which they rode.  A broad arid plain, swelling into stony hills, surrounded them on every side.  Here and there in the extreme distance, mounted figures moved over the vast expanse—­Boer scouts who marked in amazement the advance of this great array.  Once or twice these men gathered together, and a sputter of rifle fire broke out upon our left flank, but the great tide swept on and carried them with it.  Often in this desolate land the herds of mottled springbok and of grey rekbok could be seen sweeping over the plain, or stopping with that curiosity upon which the hunter trades, to stare at the unwonted spectacle.

So all day they rode, hussars, dragoons, and lancers, over the withered veld, until men and horses drooped with the heat and the exertion.  A front of nearly two miles was kept, the regiments moving two abreast in open order; and the sight of this magnificent cloud of horsemen sweeping over the great barren plain was a glorious one.  The veld had caught fire upon the right, and a black cloud of smoke with a lurid heart to it covered the flank.  The beat of the sun from above and the swelter of dust from below were overpowering.  Gun horses fell in the traces and died of pure exhaustion.  The men, parched and silent, but cheerful, strained their eyes to pierce the continual mirage which played over the horizon, and to catch the first glimpse of the Modder.  At last, as the sun began to slope down to the west, a thin line of green was discerned, the bushes which skirt the banks of that ill-favoured stream.  With renewed heart the cavalry pushed on and made for the drift, while Major Rimington, to whom the onerous duty of guiding the force had been entrusted, gave a sigh of relief as he saw that he had indeed struck the very point at which he had aimed.