d through my lungs, missing
the heart by a mere hair-breadth. It happened all so suddenly that for
the first few seconds I hardly knew that I was wounded. I remained in
the saddle for a time, until some of the men could attend to me. Gently
they took me from my horse, placed me in a blanket, and carried me along
to a safe spot.

It was now eventide, the shadows were deepening, and darkness was hiding
us from the vision of the foe. At first I was determined to accompany
the commando some distance from the line to a place where I could safely
remain till recovered. I, however, soon realised the serious nature of
the wound, and that if it were not well attended to, mortification was
sure to set in, and that would cost me my life. The men too considered
it absolutely impossible for me to accompany them any longer, and deemed
it advisable that I should be sent into the British hospital for medical
treatment.

And then came the _parting_ moment, the moment when I had to bid adieu
to the men whom I had led, and with whom I had fought against our common
foe for so long a time. In the life of every man there comes a day, an
hour, or even a moment, which he never can forget. That parting moment,
reader, was one in my life I never shall forget. My officers, adjutants,
secretary, and some other burghers gathered round me for the last time
as I sat on the ground supported by one of them. As they bade me
farewell--yea, perhaps for ever--the tear-drops sparkled in their eyes,
and gushed down their cheeks. Yes, we all did weep and shed tears of
deep sorrow--tears not such as "angels weep," but such as men can weep
who love one another, and had fought in one common cause.

I could not speak to the men as I would, for I was too weak. Still I
wished them God-speed for the future, and exhorted them to be very
courageous and to do their duty faithfully, as befits men, to the last.
I told them my work was done. I had given my blood, and might be called
upon to give my life for my country. If so, I hope to be prepared to
bring that offering too. More I could not do. My secretary then knelt
and commended me in prayer to the care and protection of our gracious
God and Father.... Then we parted.

My war career had ended. No more fighting, no more retreating, no more
roaming over the veldt, by day and night, exposed to blasting summer
winds or chilling winter frosts. For two years and two months I had seen
active service. During that time I h