er will now perceive how it was that my projected inroad into
Cape Colony did not become a fact. My dear old friend, General Charles
Knox, was against it, and he had the best of the argument, for the river
was unfordable. What then was I to do? Retreat I could not, for the
Caledon also was now full. Again, as I have already explained, it would
not do for me to take refuge in Basutoland. But even that would be
better than to attempt to hold out where I was--in a narrow belt of
country between two rivers in flood--against the overpowering force
which was at General Knox's disposal, and which in ten or twelve days
would increase tenfold, by reinforcements from all parts of the country.

I knew that the Orange and the Caledon Rivers sometimes remained
unfordable for weeks together. How could I then escape?--Oh, the English
had caught me at last! They hemmed me in on every side; I could not get
away from them. In fact they had "cornered" me, to use one of their own
favourite expressions. That they also thought so appears from what I
read afterwards in the _South African News_, where I saw that Lord
Kitchener had given orders to General Charles Knox "not to take any
prisoners there!" For the truth of this I cannot positively vouch; but
it was a very suspicious circumstance that Mr. Cartwright, the editor of
the newspaper to which I have referred, was afterwards thrown into
prison for having published this very anecdote about Lord Kitchener.

Our prospects were then by no means bright; I knew very well that those
trusty counsellors of the English--the National Scouts--would have
advised their masters to seize the bridges and thus make escape
impossible for Steyn and De Wet.

Without delay I proceeded to the Commissiedrift bridge over the Caledon.
As I feared, it was occupied by the enemy. Entrenchments had been dug,
and _schanzes_ thrown up at both ends.

Foiled here, I at once sent a man down to the river to see if it was
still rising. It might be the case that there had not been so much rain
higher up. The man whom I had sent soon returned, reporting that the
river was falling, and would be fordable by the evening. This was good
news indeed.

On the other hand, our horses were exhausted. They had now for three
days been obliged to plough their way through the wet, muddy paths. We
had no forage to give them, and the grass was so young as yet that it
did not seem to strengthen them at all.

Nevertheless, we had to be off