den, of Melk Kraal, Cape Colony, two
sacks of mealies, 500 bundles of oat forage, two mules, four
sheep, for the use of O.V.S. commando.

"This receipt to be presented for repayment at the end of the
war to the O.V.S. Government.

(Signed) "ADRIAN FISCHER,
_Corporal, O.V.S. Forces._

Dated "_February_ ----."

_I. O._ "Who is Fischer?"

_F._ "He is Brand's adjutant!"

_I. O._ "I thought that you said there were only about twenty in the
commando. They and their horses must have been hungry to eat four
sheep and 500 bundles of oat hay. I should say that there must have
been more like fifty of them!"

_F._ "That may be, we did not count them. But can we ask the general
to dinner?"

_I. O._ "That depends. First, I must go through your rooms."

Followed by the whole family, the Intelligence officer passed through
to the various rooms, furnished and upholstered in the stereotyped
Dutch fashion, till they came to the end of the long house. Here a
closed door barred their way.

_I. O._ "What is in there?"

_F._ "Nothing--it is only my daughter and her 'man'; they have only
been married a few days, so we let them live apart. (_Throwing the
door open._) You may go in, of course. We are jingoes, we have nothing
to conceal."

The Intelligence officer entered the room to find an overbearded young
man and a very touzled, plump young lady sitting sheepishly
hand-in-hand. They rose as he entered and stared vacantly at him. The
man was a mean specimen of the Dutchman, tall and thin, narrow chest,
and sloping shoulders. An aggressive red beard for one so young,
growing backwards after the fashion prevailing with the Sikhs. A
cadaverous wretched creature, yet doubtless with strength enough in
his forefinger to make the seven-pound pull of a rifle.

The Intelligence officer's eyes ranged the room, which was bare
enough to have satisfied the most ascetic of honeymooning couples.
Half a glance was sufficient to prove to him that the frau had been
speaking the truth, so he turned upon the pair and shot at the man a
question so sharply that he started, "Do you know the road to
Zwingelspan?" The man recovered himself slowly, and then affected that
look of imbecility which is invariably the Dutchman's effort at
self-protection when he is cornered by a question which he does not
wish to answer. But his new-found mother-in-law was evidently anxious
that nothing should occur to irr