was thenceforth given the
distasteful and inglorious task of commandeering. He wearied of this,
and applied for active service, but in vain. Then, smarting under a
sense of injustice, he took the fatal step--deserted. Not content with
this, he wrote a letter out of the British camp to one of our
field-cornets, urging upon the latter to surrender. The letter fell into
the hands of one of our Intelligence officers, who forthwith replied in
the field-cornet's name, asking Vilonel to meet him at a certain
secluded spot. Vilonel kept the appointment, accompanied by a British
major, and both were made prisoners, the major protesting energetically
against what he was pleased to consider as a breach of the rules of
warfare, but his captors begged to differ, reminding him that all's fair
in love and war, especially in dealing with traitors and their
associates.

Vilonel was tried at Reitz, and sentenced to five years, the judge
remarking that he was lucky to get off with his life. The prisoner did
not think so, and applied for leave to appeal. This was granted, but
owing to the nature of the subsequent military operations the Court had
not found time to sit, hardly time to pause, in fact.

When the day finally arrived for the appeal to be heard the little
court-room was crowded with interested spectators. Judge Hertzog
presided, assisted by two young advocates, Messrs. Hugo and Cronje, and
Advocate De Villiers represented the State. The prisoner, who conducted
his own defence, asked for a postponement. This was refused. He then
made an able statement, asserting his innocence of any evil intentions,
pleading that he had acted as his conscience dictated, and eloquently
praying the Court to reconsider his sentence. It was a painful moment
when the presiding judge, after a whispered consultation with the
assessors, turned to the prisoner and confirmed the sentence, adding,
in his clear, incisive voice, that the name of Vilonel would remain an
eternal stigma upon the fame of the Afrikander race. One could not help
feeling a thrill of compassion at the tragic end of such a promising
career. To-day a noble patriot, to-morrow a black traitor, despised by
the lowest of his countrymen!

President Steyn's wife and family were installed in a house in this
village, but the President himself preferred to camp in the veld and
share the lot of his burghers.

With him were nearly all the members of the Government, if we except
those who had