marvellously rapid transition from a region filled with
nature's wildest panoramas to one that contained not even a tree or rock
or cliff to relieve the monotony of the landscape. On the one side of this
natural boundary line was an immense territory every square mile of which
contained mountain passes which a handful of Boers could hold against an
invading army; on the other side there was hardly a rock behind which a
burgher rifleman could conceal himself. Here herds of cattle and flocks of
sheep, instead of wild beasts, sped away from the roar of the train; here
there was the daub and wattle cottage of the farmer instead of the
thatched hut of the native savage.

Small towns of corrugated iron and mud-brick homes and shops appeared at
long intervals on the veld; grass-fires displayed the presence of the Boer
farmer with his herds, and the long ox-teams slowly rolling over the plain
signified that not all the peaceful pursuits of a small people at war with
a great nation had been abandoned. The coal-mines at Belfast, with their
towering stacks and clouds of smoke, gave the first evidence of the
country's wondrous underground wealth, and then farther on in the journey
came the small city of Middleburg with its slate-coloured corrugated iron
roofs in marked contrast to the green veld grass surrounding it. There
appeared armed and bandoliered Boers, prepared to join their countrymen in
the field, with wounded friends and sad-faced women to bid farewell to
them. While the train lay waiting at the station small commandos of
burghers came dashing through the dusty streets, bustled their horses into
trucks at the rear end of the passenger train, and in a few moments they
were mingling with the foreign volunteers in the coaches. Grey-haired
Boers gravely bade adieu to their wives and children, lovers embraced
their weeping sweethearts, and the train moved on toward Pretoria and the
battlefields where these men were to risk their lives for the life of
their country.

Historic ground, where Briton and Boer had fought before, came in view.
Bronkhorst Spruit, where a British commander led more than one hundred of
his men to death in 1880, lay to the left of the road in a little wooded
ravine. Farther on toward Pretoria appeared rocky kopjes, where afterwards
the Boers, retreating from the capital city, gathered their disheartened
forces, and resisted the advance of the enemy. Eerste Fabriken was a
hamlet hardly large enough to m