and butter in the camp, and I strolled on my way
congratulating myself on the good turn I was thus able to do myself
and detachment, none of whom had even smelt such luxuries for weeks.

After an uneventful round, I directed my steps back towards the thin
blue threads of smoke, rising vertically in the still air, which alone
showed the position of my little post, and as I walked the
peacefulness of the whole scene impressed me. The landscape lay bathed
in the warm light of the setting sun, whose parting rays tinged most
strongly the various heights within view, and the hush of approaching
evening was only broken by the distant lowing of oxen, and by the
indistinct and cheerful hum of the camp, which gradually grew louder
as I approached. I strolled along in quite a pleasant frame of mind,
meditating over the rather curious names which Mr. Brink had given me
for the surrounding features of the landscape. The kopje above his
farm was called Incidentamba, the flat-topped mountain some two miles
to the north was called Regret Table Mountain, and the gently rising
hill close to the drift on the south of the river was called Waschout
Hill. Everything was going on well, and the men were at their teas
when I got back. The nice Dutchman, with his apostolic face, and the
lanky Piet and Gert, were already there, surrounded by a swarm of men,
to whom they were selling their wares at exorbitant rates. The three
of them strolled about the camp, showing great interest in everything,
asking most intelligent questions about the British forces and the
general position of affairs, and seemed really relieved to have a
strong British post near. They did not even take offence when some of
the rougher men called them "blarsted Dutchmen," and refused to
converse with them, or buy their "skoff." About dusk they left, with
many promises to return with a fresh supply on the morrow.

After writing out my orders for next day--one of which was for digging
some trenches round the camp, an operation which I knew my men, as
becomes good British soldiers, disliked very much, and regarded as
fatigues--I saw the two guards mounted, one at the drift, and the
other some little way down the river, each furnishing one sentry on
the river bank.

When all had turned in, and the camp was quite silent, it was almost
comforting to hear the half-hourly cry of the sentries--"Number
one--all is well;" "Number two--all is well." By this sound I was able
to locate t