t his
feelings; I only wanted to show my son the game he must track one day."

The little boy cried when they led him away, saying--

"I 'ants my 'ickle khaki, I 'ants my tame Englishman!"

"Don't cry," said the old man, "father will catch you some to-morrow."

The little fellow's eyes brightened with anticipation, and his tears
gave way to smiles. Sure enough his father came into camp a few days
later driving before him two diminutive steeds bending beneath the
weight of two corpulent khakis. He called his son and said--

"Now, sonny, here are the soldiers I promised you."

The little fellow looked them over carefully. Then his lower lip began
to pout, and tears rolled down his cheeks.

"What's the matter, my son," asked the astonished father, "doesn't he
like his khakis?"

"No, daddy," replied the little chap, striving with his tears.

"Why not, my lad?"

Then the child's restraint gave way, and he burst out--

"Oh, daddy, they're not--_sob_--real--_sob_--soldiers at all!"

They were two of the C.I.V.

But to return. As soon as the waggons were ready they were sent on along
the winding valley, whilst the horsemen and artillery took up a position
on a neighbouring hill and awaited the British attack. This took the
form of continuous shelling until sundown. As soon as darkness fell the
horsemen took a short cut and rejoined the waggons, which in the
meantime had gained a considerable start. President Steyn and his
secretary accompanied De Wet during the day and had a taste of the
enemy's shell-fire. When we asked the secretary that evening how he had
liked the ordeal he said he could hardly describe his feelings whilst it
lasted, but when the shelling ceased it was the heavenliest sensation of
his life. So if you want a heavenly sensation you know now how to get
it.

We had an ambulance staff with us, but were sometimes obliged to leave
our wounded behind, because we knew very well the enemy would be only
too glad to get hold of our doctors and deprive us of all medical help.

On crossing the railway near Honingspruit we captured a train. From the
newspapers taken out of the mail-bags we learnt that we were being
closely pressed, and that hopes were entertained of our speedy capture.
We did not grudge the papers the pleasures of hope; what we objected to
was their crocodile tears over us poor misguided, ignorant burghers, who
were too stupid to see the beauty of becoming exultant British subjects,
like