swering signal was plainly given, followed
by DDDD, which, although not in the code-book, is an expression well
understood by all signallers.

All that night it rained, and the men in their wretched bivouacs sang
through it all with a most admirable heroism. Imagine yourself with two
other people lying in three inches of water with two blankets supported
by rifles over your head, and you have their condition. And they started
again in the cold, rainy darkness, wet and chilled to the bone, still
singing. But that is the private soldier all over. Put him in really
happy circumstances, and he grumbles himself hoarse; give him something
really to grumble at, and he is cheerful; give him misery, and he sings.
We marched fifteen miles on Thursday, the 12th, and encamped at
Buitendam, the farm of a field-cornet, where a few of the enemy sniped
at us as we arrived and had the satisfaction of seeing the whole force
turned out after a weary march. But of course the Boers are in their
element at this kind of game. A hundred of them wish to drive away some
stock; they leave a dozen to snipe from a ridge, while we send Tommy
plodding round for miles on a flanking movement (for you must keep him
out of range); and when the cattle have been driven far enough away,
Mr. Boer jumps on his horse and is off also, while we ruefully "occupy"
the vacant hill.

We found a noisy and rather gratifying revenge in destroying some
ammunition which was buried in the garden; the throwing of three
thousand rounds of cordite ammunition into the fire is a peculiarly
exciting game. Some presiding genius, instead of blowing up the two
cases of dynamite, threw them into the dam, whence, I have been told,
they were fished up, not a penny the worse, by the Boers after our
departure next day.

A thing happened in connection with this Boer ammunition which shows
once more how very easy it is to attribute all kinds of sins to one's
enemy. Someone came running up to a little group of us with several
packets of cartridges, one with the seal broken.

"Here's a pretty thing," he said; "poisoned bullets--the brutes!"

Sure enough, there were the steel bullets projecting out of the
cartridges, each completely coated with something very like verdigris up
to the edge of the brass envelope. The sealed packets showed that they
must have been so received from the makers, which easily proved the
most premeditated barbarity. Exclamations were rife; a brigadier was
mak