f our men was lying wounded in a
farmhouse a little way outside the outposts; a waggon was sent out and
brought him in, when he proved to be one of our mounted infantry, who
had been wounded in Colonel Rochfort's dashing attack on a Boer laager
near Pretoria.[16] The Boers had looked after him as well as they
could, and dressed his wounds according to their homely lights, and
altogether played the game so far as he was concerned.

[Footnote 16: The writer was recently dining with
Colonel--now Major-General--Rochfort, when that officer
particularly asked him to mention how splendidly the party of
Dublin Fusiliers under his command had behaved on this
occasion, and his admiration of their soldierly conduct at
all times while serving under him.]

Next day still brought the sound of General Barton's artillery, and
the right half-battalion under Major Bird went out as escort to two
waggon-loads of ammunition for him. The General sent half-way to meet
him, and our men got back all right about 6 p.m.

With the advent of summer the thunderstorms increased in frequency and
severity, and it was no joke to have to suddenly jump up and hang on
to the pole of one's tent to prevent it being blown away, with the
uncomfortable knowledge that lightning has a partiality for running
down tent-poles. We had one really bad experience in this way, to be
narrated later, but nothing to touch the blizzard that struck the camp
of the 5th Battalion Royal Dublin Fusiliers near Mafeking, when sheets
of corrugated iron flew about like packs of gigantic cards, and
Colonel Gernon and Captain Baker, the Quartermaster, together with
many others, sustained very serious injuries. Still, our share was bad
enough, and quite spoiled the summer for a good many of us. The
mornings would break clear, cloudless, and invigorating; but about 3
p.m. on about three days of the week, a bunch of cotton-wool clouds
would appear from the south. As these rose higher and higher, they
swelled into enormous piles of grand, rolling cloud-masses, like
stupendous snow-clad mountains, whose bases grew black and ever
blacker, until they would suddenly be riven by blinding flashes of
flickering ribbons of lightning, and the air torn and rent by
reverberating booms of awe-inspiring thunder.

Second Lieutenant Tredennick joined at this time. Second Lieutenant R.
F. B. Knox should have arrived with him, but had to remain behi