y you like."

The Intelligence officer had barely got outside when a tall and even
good-looking native attracted his attention by raising his battered
hat and murmuring "kos." The man, a magnificent specimen of the Basuto
savage, was quivering with emotion, and he pointed to a great
grey-white weal which showed across his neck and open breast.

_Intelligence Officer._ "Sjambok?"

_Basuto._ "Yah, Boss!"

_I. O._ "How did you come by this?"

The native, who was of more than average intelligence, then told the
following astounding story. He was one of the five native scouts
employed by the new Intelligence guide. The morning that the New
Cavalry Brigade had left Orange River Station, he had been sent
forward by our friend with a letter to Commandant Botmann, and,
finding that he was not at Luckhoff, the Basuto had warned the acting
landrost[40] there of the approach of the British, and had then ridden
on to Philippolis, and was there when De Wet and Steyn arrived; and in
the truly expressive language of the native he told of their dejection
and the dispiriting nature of the speech which the ex-President had
made to the assembled burghers. He also furnished the valuable
information that De Wet had issued instructions that all stray
burghers and Brand's, Wessel's, Akermann's, and Kolbe's commandos
should concentrate with him at Petrusberg, whither he was proceeding
on the following day with his personal bodyguard under Theron. As the
brigadier had anticipated, De Wet was halting a day to allow his
stragglers to concentrate. In all he would have about 300 men and
forty Cape carts. But at Petrusberg they would concentrate to about
1200 or 1500. The Basuto had ridden through from Philippolis that
night, and had arrived back at Luckhoff only half an hour ago. The
blow which was responsible for this disclosure of his master's perfidy
and the Boer plans was by reason of a favourite horse. In order to
ensure the safe delivery of his message, and not dreaming that it
would go all the way to Philippolis, the Intelligence guide had
mounted the Basuto on his best horse. This best horse had caught the
eye of a Winburg burgher in Philippolis, and he had relieved the
Basuto of it, leaving him to make his way back upon some scarecrow.
_Hinc illae lacrymae_.

The Intelligence officer smoothed over the Basuto's ill-will with
fair-mouthed promises, and led him to understand that if he went back
to his master and suffered in silence fo