say, soaping all leather-work, and
scouring steel-work. Harness-cleaning is irksome work, and, as far as
appearances go, is a heart-breaking task, for the eternal dust is
always obliterating every trace of one's labour. I have none of my own
to look after yet, but help the others.

"At 4.30 or five 'Prepare for water' sounds. You put a bridoon on one
horse, and, if you are luxurious, a blanket and surcingle to sit on,
lead the other, and form up in a line; then 'file right' is the order,
and you march off to the watering place, wearing any sort of costume
you please. And very slight and _neglige_ some of them are. In the
cool of the evening, this is a very pleasant three quarters of an
hour. After watering comes the evening feed, followed by tea at six
o'clock, and then the day's work is done."

The evenings in that climate are delicious; we could sit in our
shirt-sleeves until any hour, without any perceptible chill in the
air, playing cards, or smoking and talking, or reading by a lantern.
Williams and I found picket a great resource; and many a good game of
whist have I had sitting in a crowded quartette in our ramshackle
battery Cape-cart, with an inch of candle guttering among the cards.

Most of us slept in the tents, but I preferred the open, even in
dust-storms, when choosing a site required some skill. The composition
of a bed was a question of sacks. There was one very large variety of
chaff-sack, which was a sleeping-bag in itself; with this and your
blanket and cloak, and under the lee of some forage or scrub, you
could defy anything. The only peril was that of a loose horse walking
on you.

On some afternoons we were quite free till the stable-hour at four.
Till then we could bask in camp, or go for a bathe in the river, where
there was one splendid deep-water pool, whence you could hear the
baboons barking on the hill-sides, and see the supply trains for the
front grinding heavily up the pass.

Rumours of a move never lost their charm. At first we used to take
them seriously, but gradually the sense of permanence began to pervade
our camp. Solid tin shelters rose for the guard and the sergeants; a
substantial tin canteen was erected close to the lines by cynical
provision-dealers. Those visionary rebels declined to show themselves;
nobody attacked our precious pass; and, in short, we had to
concentrate our minds upon the narrow circle of our daily life.

A recurring duty for drivers was that of "sta