olver
belonging to Mr. Hocke; his own revolver, and a bag of about two feet
in length, containing Mauser ammunition, which had been buried by Mrs.
Botha and was now going "to the front"; boots, soap, washing soda,
cotton, and a number of other small articles, which had been ordered
by the women on commando--that unknown band of heroic women, fleeing
north, south, east, and west with their men, for whom they cooked and
sewed and prayed throughout the long years of the war.

Krause had been "shopping" in town for these brave sisters in the
field, and I am sure his thoughts that night were not of fear for the
perils he was about to face, but of satisfaction and pleasurable
anticipation of the joy his arrival at commando would occasion the
women at the front.

Would that one of their undaunted band could be induced to give the
world a record of their unique and altogether wonderful experiences of
the war!

Mr. Krause's slight form was now twice, perhaps nearly thrice its
usual size, and his friends, when they looked at him, laughed in
incredulous amazement.

"Oh, man, what would I not give to possess a photo of you as you are
dressed to-night!" Mr. Botha exclaimed between his fits of laughter.

It was now 7 o'clock and nearly dark.

The two guards, walking up and down the street on their accustomed
beat, had just withdrawn; 7 o'clock was their dinner hour, this the
plotters knew.

In a moment, Krause, with the bag over his shoulder and one leg of
necessity held very straight, limped out into the open street, "Oom
Willie" (Botha) following and crossing to the other side.

Close to a street lamp, at the corner of Market Street, Krause
suddenly saw a soldier walking on ahead, upon which he immediately
turned down into Market Street, with the evident intention of pursuing
his way along Vermeulen Street. This his friend quite understood as,
ever on the opposite side of the street, he watched and followed
Krause in his course.

Again a soldier appears on the scene, this time walking _towards_ them
in Vermeulen Street. No time to turn back now; forward, boldly
forward--the fugitive has been observed.

Under one of the lamps the watcher on the other side sees to his
horror that one of the bandoliers has pushed its way up to the neck
and is showing plainly above the collar of the coat.

The British guard observes this too, for he turns under the lamp and
watches the retreating form intently. Just a moment, and he rais