f the
men slept on the seats and on blankets on the floor, while the other
half had to stand until the order, Relieve watch! rang out at the end of
two hours.

Captain Lange was standing at the window looking out at the moonlit
landscape through which the train was rushing. Wide valleys, rugged
mountain peaks and steep, rocky bastions flew past. A whistle--a low
rumble in the distance--the sound of approaching wheels--a flash of
light on the track--and then the hot breath of the speeding engine
sweeps across the captain's face, as a long row of black cars belonging
to an empty train returning from the mountains tears past on its way to
the encampments.

And then on and on, over bridges and viaducts, where the rolling wheels
awaken echo after echo, on into the narrow ravine, above the
forest-crowned edges of which the quiet light of the stars twinkles and
gleams in the purple sky of night.

The captain was thinking of the colonel. He could not remember having
met him on any of the South African battle-fields, and he had never
heard the name of Katterfeld. And yet he was positive he had seen those
penetrating blue eyes beneath their bushy brows before. No one who had
once seen it could ever forget that glance. But he racked his brain in
vain. He looked at the time and found that the present watch still had a
whole hour to run. The soldiers were leaning sleepily against the sides
of the car, and loud snores came from the seats and the floor. Suddenly
a rifle fell to the ground with a clatter and several men woke up and
swore at the noise. On went the train, and the monotonous melody of the
rolling wheels gradually lulled the weary thoughts to sleep.

Captain Lange thought of Elandslaagte again and of Colonel Schiel and
Dinizulu, the Kafir chief, and of the story the colonel had told, as
they bivouacked round the fire, of the latter's royal anointment with
castor-oil. They had made the fire with the covers of "Mellin's Food"
boxes--Mellin's Food--a fine chap, Mellin--Mellin?-- Wasn't that the
name of the captain with whom he had once sailed to Baltimore? And Daisy
Wilford had been on board with her two cats--cats-- My, how he used to
chase cats when he was a boy--it was a regular hunt-- No, it hadn't been
his fault, but Walter Wells'-- But he had been caught and shut up in the
attic, where his father gave him a chance to recollect that it is cruel
to torment animals--but it really had been Walter's fault, only he
wasn'