ving in the vicinity of Kroonstadt, the most risky part of the
journey was over, and then a wonderfully novel scene unfolded itself as
we crawled over a rise from the desolate, barren country we had been
traversing, and a tented city lay in front of us. Anyway, such was its
appearance at a first glance, for white tents stretched far away east
and west, and appeared to swamp into insignificance the unpretentious
houses, and even a fairly imposing church-spire which lay in the
background. I had never seen anything like this vast army depot, and
examined everything with the greatest attention and interest. Huge
mountains of forage covered by tarpaulin sheets were the first things to
catch my eye; then piles upon piles of wooden cases were pointed out as
"rations"--that mysterious term which implies so much and may mean so
little; again, there was a hillock of wicker-covered bottles with
handles which puzzled me, and which were explained as "cordials" of some
kind. Powerful traction-engines, at rest and in motion, next came into
sight, and weird objects that looked like life-boats mounted on trucks,
but which proved to be pontoons--strange articles to perceive at a
railway-station. Then we passed a vast concourse of red-cross tents of
every description, proclaiming a hospital. As far as outward appearances
went, it looked most beautifully arranged in symmetrically laid-out
streets, while many of the marquees had their sides thrown back, and
showed the patients within, either in bed or sitting about and enjoying
the breeze and the rays of a sun never too hot at that time of year.
"How happy and comfortable they look!" was my remark as we left them
behind. Someone who knew Kroonstadt said: "Yes, they are all right; but
the Scotch Hospital is the one to see if you are staying long
enough--spring-beds, writing-tables, and every luxury." I was sorry time
admitted of no visit to this establishment or to the magnificent
Yeomanry Hospital at Deelfontein, farther south, to which I shall have
occasion to allude in a later chapter. This last establishment was, even
at that early stage of the war, a household word among the soldiers at
the front, a dearly longed-for Mecca amongst the sick and wounded.

Our train had come to an abrupt standstill, and, on looking out, the
line appeared so hopelessly blocked that the only way of reaching the
station and lunch appeared to be on foot. We walked, therefore, upwards
of half a mile, undergoing