ally referred to as "Peter," thanks to my suggestive
initials, P.T.R. Hence it seems natural for me to be mistaken for a
rock. Still, I trust these mistakes will not often happen.

On Monday (October 29th), Captain McLean, of rowing fame, and Lieutenant
Wynne marched up to Blok Kloof with the ex-Policemen of the Sussex
Squadron, and we, having first been paraded before Sir Elliot--who in a
few kind words severed his connection with us, to our regret, as
captain--rejoined our former comrades. The other squadron of the 7th
Battalion of West Somerset Yeomanry, under Captain Harris, was left for
duty at Rietfontein.

Colonel Browne (we were all pleased to hear of his promotion this month)
having received orders to withdraw from the Kloof and rejoin Clements at
Hekpoort, gave the order for us to be ready to march off at dusk. Soon
after sunset, rain, which had been threatening all day, commenced to
fall, and we had a rather uncomfortable night march to Hekpoort. We
reached there at midnight, turned-in on the wet veldt for a few hours
and were up again at four. That day we were rearguard and going in a
south-westerly direction marched through Hartley's Nek (in the
Witwatersberg) and encamped the other side.

DEATH AND BURIAL OF CAPTAIN HODGE.

On October the 31st we were right flank to Cyperfontein, and came in for
the inevitable sniping. Mushrooms, which were very abundant on the veldt
we were traversing, were collected by many of us, and on our arrival in
camp cooked in a stew or fried in Maconochie bacon fat. We also came
upon two Boer waggons under some trees, from which we obtained a huge
loaf of mealie bread and some useful enamelled tin ware--likewise a
basin of excellent custard. Several women thereupon came up from a house
not far off and protested against our pillaging the waggons, as they
only contained their property. "And their men?" we queried. They had
none, knew nothing about any. A cock crowed in the neighbourhood, was
located and promptly commandeered, and at the same moment, Boleno (not
his real name) triumphantly emerged from one of the waggons with a fine
pair of spurs and a quantity of tobacco; the simple Boer women had to
accept us as unbelievers.

Further afield and unknown to us, the Fifes were having a warm time. It
was only when we got into camp that we heard from our old friend,
Sergeant Pullar, that their gallant and popular Captain (Chapell-Hodge
of the 12th Lancers) had been severely woun