or water for
thirty-nine hours, etc., and afterwards for our magnificent behaviour
had been called up to the general's tent, warmly congratulated by him,
and _presented with a pot of jam each_. So my diffidence about writing
will be easily understood, I am sure. And now for the celestial truth.

On Wednesday last (November 21st) we had an unexpected _reveille_ at
1.30 a.m., and set out with four days' supplies for Somewherefontein
(where, we did not know). A "revally" at such an hour is, as you may
imagine, by no means devoid of interest; I don't know whether you have
ever experienced one; if you have you know all about it; if not you have
a great experience lacking. There was I, collecting and packing our
larder in an oat sack, my miniature Bodleian and other various
possessions in another, dismantling our blanket shelter, and a hundred
other things, including feeding and saddling up my Rosinante, and
then--"Stan' to your 'osses!" We paraded smartly, and after a short
wait, moved off as right flank. A few hours after dawn there was
fighting in front of the column, but not our way, Legge's crowd working
on a parallel road and some way ahead of us. At about mid-day we reached
a wonderfully fertile village (Sterkfontein), and, imagining it to be
unoccupied, our Provost-Marshal and his satellites rode forward to
select a site for our camp, and got well sniped from some of the houses.
Thereupon Number Eight came up, and at comparatively speaking short
range, opened fire and 15-poundered them. To us, who were watching the
show, the sight was a most interesting one. Crash through a house would
go one shell, another would account for something else, and flames and
smoke soon announced burning thatches and oat-hay stacks. The Mausers
soon ceased from troubling, and eventually we entered the fontein. To
our surprise no snipers were captured, and it was asserted that the
firing had been done by the ladies, who, with children, were the only
persons found there. However, as no firearms or signs of their having
done so, were found, the matter, like most things where the wily Boer is
concerned, remains a mystery. It is a fact that lady snipers do exist.
For some time the Borders had in their guard-room, during our last trip,
amongst the various prisoners, a lady sniper they had bagged while doing
the Magaliesberg. There was not much of the Jeanne d'Arc about her. I
saw her once or twice. She was a regular barge, and of great beam; her