en reviewed the day before, and the good
practice of our guns had been praised by the inspecting officer. Now
was our chance, we thought. Nevertheless, we had to live on that
guarded "order" for another month.

But in spite of our disappointment I believe all of us will look back
with real pleasure to that time. There was no monotony in the life,
thanks to our officers, who continually introduced variety into our
work. "Marching order" days were the commonest; but there were others
of a lighter sort. On one day we would go for a long expedition in
drill-order with the guns, taking cooks and our dinner with us, and
have what we used to call a picnic by some pleasant river-side. On
another the guns would be left at home, and we would ride out for
exercise, often through the pass, which led through a lovely ravine to
a pretty little place called Tulbagh, where there was another small
camp of troops. Sometimes "bazing" was the order, a portmanteau-word
describing a morning spent in grazing the horses, and bathing
ourselves. My diary of April 8th says, "Yesterday about twenty of us
went out to practice swimming with horses. We rode about seven miles
to a deepish river, stripped, off-saddled, and swam them across. Some
wouldn't do it at all, but most of them swam across and back. You
buckle the rein up short and leave him alone. It's a very queer motion
at first. One of those I took declined to go in, in spite of half a
dozen chaps goading him on in various ways, and finally bolted away
over the veldt, carrying me naked. He soon came back though. The
horses have got the habit now of sticking together, and if they get
loose in camp never leave the lines. It is a nuisance sometimes, if
you have to act as a single mount, and ride away on some errand. My
Argentine greatly resents such a move, and tries to circle like a
clockwork mouse. She has grown as fat as a pig, though some horses are
doing poorly. The oats are of a very bad quality."

That brings me to my horses and my own work. We all of us changed
horses a good deal in those days, and I and the roan had several
partings and re-unitings. As a spare driver, my own work was very
varied, now of driving in a team, now of riding spare horses, and
occasionally of acting as a mounted gunner. Williams was a regular
mounted gunner, his mount being a wicked, disreputable-looking little
Argentine (called "Pussy" (with a lisp) for her qualities), to whom he
owed three days in hospita