me out of a large number, and has
been invaluable to me on numerous occasions for carrying various
articles, usually edible. On the whole, the time I have spent on this
outpost has been rather enjoyable. Having only one officer with us, and
being a reasonable distance from headquarters, we have been spared a
great deal of the "messing about" which seems to be the special fate of
the Imperial Yeomen. When you get your British Yeomen home again, many a
tale of incompetent officers and needless hardships will be retailed,
unless I am much in error. Here is apparently a small fact, which may
help to show _why_ the Yeoman has often fared worse than his regular
brother. The quartermaster-sergeant of a certain I.Y. company I know of,
is, like most others, a man absolutely unaccustomed to and unqualified
for the job. Added to this, the disposition of the man is of such a
nervous nature that he is afraid to try and work on his own initiative,
and consequently when requisitioning for his company's rations, he not
only fails to do what his regular brother non.-com. would do, viz.: get
as much as he can for his company, but fails often to requisition or
obtain their bare allowance. Once I met and asked this man if he had
drawn any jam for his company's tea, and his sleepily-drawled reply was,
"No-o, we were entitled to it, but I forgot to draw it." He forgot, and
a hundred hungry men were dependent on the energy of such a man. Compare
this amateur quartermaster-sergeant to the professional one, and you can
plainly see one way in which Thomas Atkins scores over his Yeoman
brother. Again, the two cooks of the same company were admittedly the
slackest and dirtiest men of the lot (the only qualification necessary
for a Yeomanry cook is the capability to boil water, and some seldom
achieve records even in doing that). Thanks to their dirtiness, the
thirsty troopers more often than not, had their tea or coffee spoilt
owing to the greasy state of the dixies (cooking pots), which had not
been cleaned after boiling the trek ox stew in them.

I am almost baking on the top of this kopje, as I sit with my back
against a rock and indite these little records. It seems hard to imagine
that early every morning muffled-up, shivering forms wait anxiously for
King Sol to stick his dear, red, blushing face above yonder range of
kopjes to warm us with his genial presence. Yesterday we had some of
Plumer's men in our little camp. They were rattling good