ons appertaining to
the civil life of the town had to be reorganized. Previous to its
occupation by us Kruger had ordered that all Boer families who had
members serving in their forces and who occupied leased houses could do
so free of rent, while men in business with relatives fighting could
occupy their leased premises at half the usual rents. This disability on
the part of the property owners to obtain their rents was at once removed
by Lord Roberts. In order to give effect to this decision it was
necessary to appoint officials. Practically what was really required was
a sort of glorified bum-bailiff, with the necessary assistance, the
bum-bailiff holding a position similar to that of a magistrate. I was
asked to suggest the name of a senior officer of the Australians who
would be suitable. I did so. But the point arose by what name was the
appointment to be designated? I don't remember who was the happy
originator of the name, but it shortly appeared in General Orders that
Colonel Ricardo, of the Queensland Forces, had been appointed "High
Commissioner of Ejectments" at Pretoria. Surely a name worthy of Gilbert
and Sullivan.

I was lunching one day at the Pretoria Club when Bennet Burleigh, the
well-known war correspondent, told me that he had just lost the services
of his dispatch rider and asked me to recommend him a good daring rider
and first-class bushman to take his place. All through life I have found
that trifles often have serious consequences. I just happened, on my way
to the club, to have seen crossing the square Morant, otherwise Corporal
Buller, of the South Australian Contingent. I had not seen him for some
considerable time. I bethought myself at once that Morant would be just
the man to fit the billet. If I had not happened to see him I should
certainly not have thought of him and Morant's career might have been a
very different one. I told Burleigh that Morant was a gentleman, a good
rider and bushman, and I didn't think he personally feared anything.
Burleigh thanked me and offered to take him at once. Next morning Morant
became his dispatch rider.

Occasionally, after this, during the advance to Koomatipoort, Morant
would turn up and pay me a visit. He usually arrived with a bundle of any
old newspapers he could get, which he very gravely and without a smile
handed over to me, hoping that they would be very welcome. But there was
a look in his eye that I knew well. "Have a whisky and soda, Moran