stirring experience seemed to have
crowded itself. Besides the Modder River battle, he had witnessed the
British repulse at Magersfontein, and had seen several desultory
skirmishes. More than one narrow escape had he known, and had been
slightly cut about the hand by the splinter of a spent shell. But he
had become inured to the rush and whirr of missiles, and now paid no
heed whatever to them. He had likewise adopted the American's
suggestion, and started in to take notes on his own account. He might
make some use of them after the war, he declared, and, at any rate, as
Acton had said, the taking of them gave him something to do. By this
time, too, he had become indurated to the ghastly and horrifying sights
which had so got upon his nerves at first. Yet he had had quite enough
of it, and thought longingly that he would gladly be back at Pretoria.
And what stimulated this longing was the fact that during all the time
he had been away he had received neither line nor word from Aletta.

At first he had thought but little of this, attributing it to a natural
delay consequent on the hurry and bustle of the times. But as days
became weeks he began to think it strange and to feel uneasy. Several
of the burghers had received letters from their people, and plenty of
messages and despatches reached the various field commandants from
headquarters. Surely the influence of Piet Plessis would suffice to
command means of sending through the communication for which he now
began so ardently to long.

Even then no idea approaching suspicion of the real state of affairs
crossed his mind. Some technical difficulty might be standing in the
way--Piet might not be able to use his official position for such
purposes. No, that did not seem to account for it either. Colvin began
to feel anxious--he hardly knew why. He had wanted to see the fighting,
and he had seen a great deal of it--enough, he thought, to last him for
life. The fierce glare of summer midday, with its dust-clouds and
chronic and tormenting thirst--the bitter chill of night on the high
veldt--lying out under the stars, while every now and then the
searchlight in the beleaguered town away in the distance swept round its
fan-like ray, now and then drawing the muffled boom of a shot--of all
this he had had enough. He made up his mind to obtain Commandant
Botma's permission to return to Pretoria.

Hardly had he done so than a letter was put into his hand. Ah, t