Lord Methuen's column was no simple affair. It must
be remembered that from Cape Town to the base, De Aar, is 500 miles, to
Belmont 591, to Kimberley 647, and to Mafeking 870 miles, and the
railway from place to place needed continual guarding, and especially
the bridges in localities where the disaffected portion of the Dutch
community resided. Lord Methuen's route, too, lay across a species of
dusty Sahara, over boulder-strewn plains with scarcely a tree to offer
shade, though dotted about now and then with some ancient kopjes to vary
the monotony of the South African scene. On these kopjes it was as
likely as not that Boer sharpshooters might already be hidden, for the
affluent Dutchmen forced their poorer countrymen to maintain eyrie-like
positions--padded with blankets and hedged in with boulders--in
readiness for the approach of an army, while they themselves arrived
fresh, spick and span, only on the rumour of battle.

With all its alarms, however, life in camp was not without its
joviality. The Naval Brigade prepared for action laughing and singing,
and Jack Tar indulged in promiscuous hornpipes between the conversations
of his big guns. A correspondent of the Central News Agency gave an
entertaining account of his sojourn among the military. He said:--

"There are, of course, pleasantries and pleasantries. The other night a
correspondent was returning to camp when he was met with the usual
challenge. 'Who goes there?' shrieked the sentry. 'A friend,' replied
the correspondent. 'Stand, friend, and give the countersign,' promptly
demanded the watchful guardian of the camp. The correspondent had
forgotten the countersign. He knew it related to Yarmouth. As a matter
of fact, it was Yarmouth. So he made a desperate bid for bed, and
replied 'Bloaters.' The sentry replied, 'Advance, friend,' and the
scene closed. You doubt this as _ben trovato_. Well, do not doubt any
longer when I plead conviction in personal guilt. I was 'Bloaters.'
Nevertheless, to an active sentrydom, as well as to vigilant curfew, we
were becoming cheerfully accustomed. It is martial law, and the camp is
the centre of Boerdom. Anything, indeed, is welcome, even martial law,
if it relieves boredom at the same time."

On the 14th of November General Wauchope, commanding the Highland
Brigade, arrived on the Orange River, followed a day or two later by
Major-General Sir H. Colvile, who assumed command of the Guards Brigade
and camp north of the ri