which three of them were killed and twenty-one wounded, including the
"Curio" of the regiment, who was stuck all over with splinters like
pins in a cushion; and in spite of seven-and-twenty wounds had the
daring to survive. Byron somewhere tells of an eagle pierced by an
arrow winged with a feather from its own breast, and in this war many
a British hero has been riddled by bullets that British hands have
fashioned. Moreover, among these bullets that thus littered that
railway track I found vast quantities of the soft-nosed and slit
varieties of which I brought away some samples; and others coated with
a something green as verdigris. It is said that in love and war all is
fair; but we should have more readily believed in the much belauded
piety of the Boers, if it had deigned to dispense with "soft noses"
and "explosive safeties," which were none the less cruel or unlawful
because of British make!

Whole stacks of sugar I also found, in flaming haste to turn
themselves into rippling lakes of decidedly overdone toffee; and in
similar fashion piled up sacks of coffee berries were roasting
themselves not wisely but too well. Pyramids of flour were much in the
same way baking themselves into cakes, monstrously misshapen, and much
more badly burnt than King Alfred's ever were. "The Boers are poor
cooks," laughingly explained our men; "they bake in bulk without
proper mixing." Nevertheless, along that line everything seemed very
much mixed indeed.

[Sidenote: _Over the Line._]

On reaching the Portuguese frontier I somewhat ceremoniously saluted
the Portuguese flag, to the evident satisfaction of the Portuguese
marines who mounted guard beside it. There were just then about 600 of
them on duty at Resina Garcia, and as they were for the most part
dressed in spotless white they looked delightsomely clean and cool.
Indeed, the contrast between their uniforms and ours was almost
painfully acute; but it was the contrast between men of war's men in
holiday attire, which no war had ever touched, and weary war-men
tattered and torn by ten months' constant contact with its roughest
usage. A shameful looking lot we were--but ashamed we were not!

As these foreigners on frontier guard knew not a word of English, and
I unfortunately knew not a word of Portuguese, there seemed small
chance of any very luminous conversation; but presently I pronounced
the magic word "Padre," and pointed to the cross upon my collar, when
lo! a look of