speak
a little further on, and that has been the day's game. I don't know our
losses yet, but we have undoubtedly had some. Our crowd had a horse
killed, of course. We had a good deal of visiting to do, calling at this
farm and that, and inquiring if the "good man" was at home. This is the
usual scene:

Farmhouse of a humble order. A few timid Kaffirs loitering around, also
a few fowls and slack-looking mongrels. Gentleman in Khaki rides up, and
in the door appear two or more round-faced women wearing headgear of the
baby-bonnet mode, dirty-faced children in background.

_G. in K._: "Where is your husband?"

_Women_: "Niet verstand."

_G. in K._: "Where is your brother?"

_Women_: "Niet verstand."

_G. in K._: "Is he on those kopjes, potting at us?"

_Women_: "Niet verstand."

_G. in K._: "Have many Boers been past here?"

_Women_: "Niet verstand."

_G, in K._ (After more interrogatories and more "Niet
verstands"): "Oh, hang it, good-bye."

_Women_ (in distance): "Niet verstand."

Verily, the "niet verstand" or "no savvee" game is a great one out here.

(_Later._) Our casualties were three Northumberland Fusiliers killed and
eight wounded, one of our Fife comrades shot in the chest, also three
Roughriders hit, and a fair percentage of horses knocked.

Thursday, September 6th.--_Reveille_ at four o'clock, and off at
daybreak. We soon came into action, some of our fellows on the right
flank getting it particularly hot. Our little lot wheeled and dismounted
behind a farmhouse, and, wading through a field of waving green barley,
under fire, took up a position amongst the growth on the near bank of
the river, from which we let off at some sangars on the top of a kopje
in front. After a while we returned to our horses, mounted, rode away to
our right, crossed the river, dismounted behind a rise in the ground,
and proceeded to occupy some kopjes nearer the enemy, who had retired.
Some fine sangars were on the hill we occupied, and so we were saved the
trouble of building any. The one I found myself in was a very
comfortable and secure affair as regards rifle fire. As, of course, Mr.
Boer does not show himself over much, we had not much to pot at,
therefore I made myself as comfortable as possible on the shady side of
the sangar, and pulled out one of my numerous pocket editions of
Tennyson (recently acquired in Pretoria) and indulged in a good, though
oc