wife and two daughters, all well armed in
some fashion or another, the farmer himself bearing a long rifle and
thrusting his head and arm through a cartridge-belt. There seemed no
doubt about his meaning mischief, but before he could thrust a cartridge
into his piece it was wrested from his hands by one of the troopers; and
others coming to the trooper's aid, the fierce old fellow was bundled
back into his house, his people following, and a sentry placed at the
door.

Rude and cruel? Well, perhaps so; but we were in an enemy's country--
the country of a people who had forced a war upon us--and the Colonel
had a couple of hundred people waiting to be fed. So we were fed amply,
for the farm was amply stocked; and the order the officer left in the
old Boer's hands in return for his curses was ample to recompense him
for what had been forcibly taken.

Denham and I slept pretty close to one another in one of the barns that
night, revelling in the thick covering of mealie-leaves which formed our
bed. Sweet, fresh, and dry, it seemed glorious; but I did not sleep
soundly all the time for thinking of what might happen to us during the
darkness. Once it was whether the farmer would send on messengers to
bring back the Boer party who had preceded us, and give us an unpleasant
surprise. Another time, as I lay on my back peering up at the openings
in the corrugated-iron roof through which the stars glinted down, I
found myself thinking of how horrible it would be if an enemy's hand
thrust in a lighted brand; and in imagination I dwelt upon the way the
dry Indian-corn leaves would burst into a roaring furnace of fire, in
which some of us must perish before we could fight our way out. It was
not a pleasant series of thoughts to trouble one in the dead of the
night, and just then I heard a sigh.

"Awake, Denham?" I whispered.

"Yes--horribly," he replied. "I say, smell that?"

"What?" I replied, feeling startled.

"Some idiot's lit his pipe, and we shall all be burned in our--beds, I
was going to say: I mean in this mealie straw."

"I can't smell it," I said.

"What! Haven't you got any nose?"

"Yes: I smell it now," I said; "but it's some one outside--one of the
sentries, I think."

"Don't feel sure--do you?"

"Yes, I do now. Strict orders were given that no one was to smoke in
the barns."

"Did you hear the order given?"

"Yes; and Sergeant Briggs muttered about it, and said it would serve the
old Boer