ions. On the first appearance
therefore of the British, both brothers following the bidding of
strongest blood bonds, transferred their allegiance, if not their
service, to the other side. Thereupon they were so incessantly
threatened with a volley of avenging Boer bullets they felt compelled
to take a holiday trip to the Cape. Thus was their gentle mother with
war still raging round her gates bereft of the presence, protection,
and sorely needed aid of all her sons.

We arranged for the holding in her home of an Easter Sunday evening
service; and then returning to the railway were cheered by the speedy
sight of a goods train bound for Bloemfontein. Whereupon I scrambled
on to the top of a heavily loaded truck, and there, being a
first-class passenger provided with a first-class ticket, travelled in
first-class style, sitting awkwardly astride of nobody knows what. On
the same truck rode a Colonial, an English cavalryman, and a Hindu who
courteously threw over me a handsome rug when the chilly eve closed in
upon us. A decidedly representative group were we atop that truck-load
of miscellaneous munitions of war. And on into the darkness, and
through the darkness, we thus rode till late at night we reached the
lights of Bloemfontein.

[Sidenote: _Onwards but whither?_]

On Saturday, April 22nd, the colonel of my battalion informed his
quartermaster that the next day his men would leave Kaffir River,
proceed to Springfield, and thence to "worlds unknown!" That is
precisely where we soon found ourselves. Early on Sunday morning I
said "Good-bye" to Bloemfontein, expecting to see its face no more,
for surely this must be the long looked for start towards golden
Krugerland! At Kaffir River I found the Guards were some hours ahead
of me, but was just in time to catch the tail of a long train of
transport waggons belonging to them, so that fortunately there was no
fear of my being left alone, and lost a second time upon the veldt.
Thus commenced a long Sunday march, as we all supposed, to
Springfield. Later on we learned it certainly was not Springfield we
were slowly approaching; but that possibly night-fall would land us
somewhere near the Waterworks recently shattered, and still held, by
the Boers. Yet "not there, not there, my child," were our weary feet
wending. We began to wonder whether they were wending anywhere; and to
this hour nobody seems to know the name of the place where we that
night rested. Perhaps it had n