e the tidings of the crushing defeat
at Laing's Nek. At first, Silas Croft would not believe it. "No
general could have been so mad," he said; but soon the report was amply
confirmed from native sources.

Another week passed, and with it came the news of the British defeat
at Ingogo. The first they heard of it was on the morning of February 8,
when Jantje brought a Kafir up to the verandah at breakfast-time. This
Kafir said that he had been watching the fight from a mountain; that
the English were completely hemmed in and fighting well, but that "their
arms were tired," and they would all be killed at night-time. The
Boers, he said, were not suffering at all--the English could not "shoot
straight." After hearing this they passed a sufficiently miserable day
and evening. About twelve o'clock that night, however, a native spy
despatched by Mr. Croft returned with the report that the English
general had won safely back to camp, having suffered heavily and
abandoned his wounded, many of whom had died in the rain, for the night
after the battle was wet.

Then came another long pause, during which no reliable news reached
them, though the air was thick with rumours, and old Silas was made
happy by hearing that large reinforcements were on their way from
England.

"Ah, Bessie, my dear, they will soon sing another song now," he said
in great glee; "and what's more, it's about time they did. I can't
understand what the soldiers have been about--I can't indeed."

And so the time wore heavily along till at last there came a dreadful
day, which Bessie will never forget so long as she lives. It was the
20th of February--just a week before the final disaster at Majuba Hill.
Bessie was standing idly on the verandah, looking down the long avenue
of blue gums, where the shadows formed a dark network to catch the
wandering rays of light. The place looked very peaceful, and certainly
no one could have known from its appearance that a bloody war was being
waged within a few miles. The Kafirs came and went about their work as
usual, or made pretence to; but now and then a close observer might see
them stop, look towards the Drakensberg, and then say a few words to
their neighbour about the wonderful thing which had come to pass, that
the Boers were beating the great white people, who came out of the sea
and shook the earth with their tread. Whereon the neighbour would take
the opportunity to relax from toil, squat down, have a pinch of