strict orders to retire. So far we have sought only to draw them on.
But here and at Dundee we must make a stand, and all yesterday and this
morning we have thought only of one question: Will they venture to come
on? They have numbers on their side--an advantage certainly of three to
one, possibly more. The rough country with its rocky flat-topped lines
of hill is just suited for their method of warfare--to lie behind stones
and take careful shots at any one in range. Besides, if they are to do
anything, they know they must be quick. The Basutos are chanting their
war-song on the Free State frontier. The British reinforcements are
coming, and all irregulars have a tendency to melt away if you keep them
waiting. But on the other hand it is against Boer tradition to attack,
especially entrenched positions. Their artillery is probably far
inferior to ours in training and skill, and they don't like artillery in
any case. Nor do they like the thought of Lancers and Hussars sweeping
down upon their flanks wherever a little bit of plain has to be crossed.
So the chances of attack seem about equally balanced, and only the days
can answer that one question of ours: Will they come on?

Yesterday it seemed as though they were coming. The advance of two main
columns from the passes in the north-west had been fairly steady; and
last night our outposts of the Natal Carbineers were engaged, as the 5th
Lancers had been the night before. Heavy firing was reported at any
distance short of fifteen miles. There was no panic. The few ladies who
remain went riding or cycling along the dusty, blazing road which makes
the town. The Zulu women in blankets and beads walked in single file
with the little black heads of babies peering out between their
shoulder-blades, and roasting in the sun. Huge waggon-loads of
stores--compressed forage, compressed beef, jam, water-proof sheets,
ammunition, oil, blankets, sardines, and all the other necessaries of a
soldier's existence--came lumbering up from the station behind the long
files of oxen urged slowly forward by savage outcries and lashes of
hide. Orderlies were galloping in the joy of their hearts. The band of
the Gloucesters were practising scales in unison to slow time. Suddenly
a kind of feeling came into the air that something was happening. I
noticed the waggon stopped; the oxen at once lay down in the dust; the
music ceased and was packed away. I met the Gordons coming into town and
asking for