ers,
took up a position on a kopje about six miles out of town, and a
thousand yards from the Johannesburg road. Whenever a convoy or a body
of British came along Jonas and his merry band would open a furious
fusillade, causing the unhappy enemy no end of inconvenience. It is a
fact that he carried on this game for months, unhindered.

After his day's work Jonas would lay aside rifle and bandolier, don his
overcoat, and stroll into town to see his family.

He was challenged by a sentry on one occasion, but Jonas reproved him so
severely and bluffed him so completely, that the poor fellow broke into
an abject apology, whereupon Jonas very condescendingly promised to say
no more about the matter.

WE ENTER POTCHEFSTROOM

"On Sunday we shall hold service in Potchefstroom," announced the
commandant. Ah! Something definite at last! The men's hearts grow light
as they polish their rifles, for are not they going to behold their dear
ones soon? No one thinks of doubting the commandant's word; he is our
leader, what he says must be true. How we shall get in none know, but
get in we shall, all are sure of that. One morning my two comrades are
sent to spy the town. My horse's unshod hoofs are tender as my lady's
hands; I have searched the plains for a dead horse wearing shoes. Of all
the carcasses I find the hoofs are gone, cut off by sharper comrades. I
must remain behind. At night the order is given, "March!" Cheerfully the
column trots out of camp; we who have no horses follow it with wistful
eyes. There are girls in the town too, ah! such girls! Complexions a
dream of purity, mystic, melting eyes, and hair a silken web to weave
sweet fancies through.

At midnight my two friends return. What, the others gone already? And
you still here! No, mount, saddle, hurry, sick or well, go we must, and
come must you! And perhaps, after all, if we ride steadily, who knows?
If my horse fails, why, we will loot another on the road.

We do not take the _spoor_, we slip across the veld; my mount treads
gingerly, but what odds? After to-day he shall rest for a week!

We near the town. Everything is deathly quiet. Where is our commando?
Cautiously we enter the streets, riding far apart, rifles ready. Halt!
here comes a horseman. Don't fire, he is unarmed. Why, 'tis but a boy!
Where's the enemy? Where's the foe, quick? What! Deserted the town? We
look around and see a long string of Boers come speeding along about a
mile behind. H