rience. Here he obtained
confirmation of the Bronker's Spruit disaster, and listened with set
face and blazing eyes to the tale of treachery and death which was, as
he said, with a parallel in the annals of civilised war. But, after all,
what does it matter?--a little square of graves at Bronker's Spruit,
a few more widows and a hundred or so of orphans. England, by her
Government, answered the question plainly--it matters very little.

At Standerton John was again warned that it would be impossible for
him to make his way through the Boers at Heidelberg, a town about sixty
miles from Pretoria, where the Triumvirate, Kruger, Pretorious, and
Joubert, had proclaimed the Republic. But he answered as before, that
he must go on till he was stopped, and inspanning his horses set forward
again, a little comforted by the news that the Bishop of Pretoria, who
was hurrying up to rejoin his family, had passed through a few hours
before, also intent upon running the blockade, and that if he drove fast
he might overtake him.

On he went, hour after hour, over the great deserted plain, but he did
not succeed in catching up the Bishop. About forty miles from Standerton
he saw a waggon standing by the roadside, and halted to try if he could
obtain any information from its driver. But on investigation it became
clear that the waggon had been looted of the provisions and goods with
which it was loaded and the oxen driven off. Nor was this the only
evidence of violence. Across the disselboom of the waggon, its hands
still clasping a long bamboo whip, as though he had been trying to
defend himself with it, lay the dead body of the native driver. His
face, John noticed, was so composed and peaceful, that had it not been
for the attitude and a neat little blue hole in the forehead, one might
have thought he was asleep, not dead.

At sunset John outspanned his now flagging horses by the roadside, and
gave them each a couple of bundles of forage from the store that he had
brought with him. Whilst they were eating it, leaving Mouti to keep an
eye to them, he strolled away and sat down on a bit ant-heap to think.
It was a wild and melancholy scene that stretched before and behind him.
Miles upon miles of plain, rolling east and west and north and south
like the billows of a frozen sea, only broken, far along the Heidelberg
road, by some hills, known as Rooi Koppies. Nor was this all. Overhead
was blazing and burning one of those remarkable sun