loaf of bread, leaving the others to continue calling. On
the way down I noticed a telegraph wire running in the direction of
Potchefstroom. In the farmhouse were only two young girls, the elder a
charming golden-haired fairy with tender eyes of cornflower blue. And
her smile!--it was enough to make one say all kinds of silly things just
for the pleasure of seeing her ripe lips part, revealing her wholesome,
even little teeth! No wonder I delayed my departure! I left at last,
however--not without the loaf of bread--and made for the camp. I had not
gone far before I met one of the burghers, who told me Steyn and De Wet
had gone up to the helio post a little while before. What would they say
when they found me absent from my post! I approached the camp in
anything but an enviable mood, and was just off-saddling when the two
leaders returned. Like a flash the thought came to me of the telegraph
line I had seen.

"President," I said eagerly, before he could speak, "there's a telegraph
line near here. Shan't I go and try to tap it?"

He looked at me very seriously for a moment, and then replied, a smile
breaking through the frown, "Yes, go on, you should have been there
already." Saved again! I went, but needless to say, if I heard any
secrets that evening it was not through the medium of a telegraph wire!

SKIRMISHES

A band of about thirty Transvaalers, mostly from Potchefstroom, who had
been attached to De Wet for some time, now decided to go on ahead and
join Liebenberg's commando, near their native town. As De Wet had no
intention of moving forward just yet, I joined my brother Transvaalers.
Bidding adieu to our Free State comrades, we crossed the Vaal. Just
beyond the river we were joined by two or three others, who had with
them as prisoner a British sergeant. This fellow had been in charge of a
band of native police, whose insolence had terrorised the women and
children for miles around, until a body of Boers came along and routed
them out of the district, capturing their leader. What became of the
blacks I do not know, but it must be remembered that the Transvaal
natives are Boer subjects, and liable to be shot if caught aiding the
British. The feeling against the sergeant was very bitter.

"Oh, you're the Kafir chief, are you?" said one of our men to him.

"Ho, yuss, h' I'm the Kefir ginnyril," responded the flattered cockney,
with an irritating grin.

"I'd like to Kafir general you through the head