force which could have been at the pan was the main force, which meant
that the general had been up to time in his advance on Strydenburg,
while the New Cavalry Brigade had failed in the tryst.

The brigadier's comments on the intelligence surmises were short and
quaint. "Quite so. But I am not here to sweep up De Wet's
red-herrings. The old man will probably strike half-a-dozen of Brand's
or Vermaas's men when he reaches Strydenburg, if my cyclists haven't
turned them out. We, crossing the trail to-night in our journey north,
may strike something big. Anyway, we will have the satisfaction of
knowing that we are playing the game every time. And that being the
case we will let the old fat frau cook us a dinner to-night!" The
brigadier, who had estimated De Wet's movements with consummate
foresight, did not of course know that the replenished Plumer had
picked up the guerilla's back trail from Strydenburg, and was, at the
moment that the New Cavalry Brigade was bivouacking, practically
running him in view....

It was, all considered, a very creditable repast which the good lady
of Melk Kraal prepared for the brigadier and his staff. But on
occasions such as this it is the custom of the hosts to sits round the
walls of the dining-hall while the honoured guests feed alone at a
table in the centre. In this case the ladies and children of the
household lined the walls, taking an active interest in the serving,
which was at the hands of a couple of Kaffir girls. There were no
courses. The whole of the dinner was put upon the table at once, and
it consisted of boiled mutton hacked into hunks and swimming in a
greasy slop; fowls so boiled that the flesh had lost its resistance
and become a mere pulp; a mess of ochre-coloured boiled pumpkin,
boiled mealie[33] cobs, and boiled coffee of the consistency of
treacle. In fact, everything boiled and boiled to death. A repast
truly characteristic of the Dutch, who are most carnivorous in their
choice of food, and far too feckless and lazy to spend time and
trouble over such a common function as eating. It was the meal of a
people devoid of imagination and artistic taste. None the less it was
the best that the house could produce; and as the guests had taken the
precaution to bring their own liquor, it was a change from the tinned
delicacies of the modern active service meal. The banquet closed with
a quaint incident. The Intelligence officer had brought in his pocket
a bottle of _crem