g and
were extended right across the country.

"Inspan!"

No man uttered a word of complaint; each man did his work so quickly
that one could hardly believe that a laager could be put on the move in
so short a time. And away the waggons and carts skurried, steering their
course to Ventersdorp.

It was impossible to think of fighting--the enemy's numbers were far too
great. Our only safety lay in flight.

We knew very well that an Englishman cannot keep up with a Boer on the
march, and that if he tries to do so, he soon finds that his horses and
oxen can go no further. Our intention was then to march at the very best
pace we could, so that the enemy might be forced to stop from sheer
exhaustion. And as the reader will soon see, our plan was successful.

Nevertheless we had to do some fighting, to protect our laager from a
force of cavalry that was rapidly coming up with us.

They wanted to make an end of this small body of Boers, which was always
retreating, but yet, now and again, offering some slight
resistance--this tiny force that was always teaching them unpleasant
lessons; first at Retiefsnek, then to the north of Lindley, then on the
railway line, then near Vredefort, then at Rhenosterpoort, and then
again at Tijgerfontein. Yes; this sort of thing must come to an end once
for all!

We attacked the approaching troops, and succeeded in checking their
advance. But our resistance could not last long, and soon we had to
retreat and leave one of our Krupps behind us.

Had I not continued firing with my Krupp until it was impossible to save
it, then, in all probability, the laager would have been taken. But
with the loss of this Krupp we saved the laager.

I withdrew my burghers; I released the prisoners whom I had with me.

And now it was my task to make it as difficult as possible for my
pursuers. The winter grass on the veldt was dry and very inflammable,
and I decided to set fire to it, in order that the English might find it
impossible to obtain pasture for their oxen and cattle. I accordingly
set it alight, and very soon the country behind was black.

We hurried on until we reached Mr. Smit's farm, which is one hour on
horseback from the southern slopes of the Witwatersrand--the great
dividing chain of mountains that runs in the direction of Marico.
Crossing this range, we continued on the march the whole night until, on
the morning of the 11th of August, we arrived at the southern side of
the Magalie