ou were lost. Come
along here out into the road. I want to speak to you, but we must be
careful not to be overheard; this place simply teems with rebels.
(_They advanced into the broadway, the orderly following at a
respectful distance._) Now, look here, we are to have a big fight
to-morrow. You saw that funny little beggar in the hat. Well, he
wasn't playing at robbers, though you would never have known it. He
was really bringing the good news to Ghent--killing horses all the
way. He's a local Burnham, and passing good, according to the
commandant. Well, he's located Brand, Pretorius, and our old friend
Hedgehog[23] at Houwater, and we are going out to give battle. More,
they believe that De Wet has doubled back towards Strydenburg, and is
trying to link up with these Houwater gentry, as the latter have
collected horses for him. Now, our bushranging robber reports that
Brand has an outpost of thirty men at a farm on the Ongers River,
twelve miles from here, covering the Houwater-Britstown Road. We are
to take a surprise party out to-night and round them up. If we
succeed, we will run a very good chance of bringing off quite 'a show'
to-morrow. So we must get along now, and get out the invitations for
the tea-party. The 'Robber' is to meet us here in two hours, and the
old man has lent me fifteen of Rimington's Tigers, who are 'fizzers'
for this sort of _shikar_."

* * * * *

It would be an artist, indeed, who could analyse and adequately
describe the feelings of a man parading for his first night-attack.
The magnitude or insignificance of the enterprise is immaterial. The
feelings of the young soldiers from the New Cavalry Brigade as they
paraded with the hard-bitten swashbucklers, Rimington's Tigers, were
identical with those of the army advancing across the desert to the
assault at Tel-el-Kebir; of Wauchope's Highland Brigade blundering to
disaster in the slush and bushes before Magersfontein; and Hunter
Weston's handful of mounted sappers, who so boldly penetrated into the
heart of the enemy's line to destroy the railway north of
Bloemfontein. A night-attack must of necessity always be a delicate
operation. Shrouded in the mystery of darkness, men know that their
safety and the success of the enterprise is dependent upon the
sagacity and coolness of one or, at the most, two men. They must be
momentarily prepared to meet the unexpected. The smallest failure or
miscarriage--the merest