d horses." Only too glad to get away they replied, "We
are going; good-bye," and off they rode. "Do you know these fellows?"
Bresler asked his comrades, as they were leaving them. "No," was the
reply. "Well," said Bresler, "to be sure, they are British scouts." He
called them back and asked them to which commando they belonged.
"Potgieter's" was the answer. As there was no such commandant, they were
immediately arrested. Had Bresler not been present the probability is
that they would have captured the three burghers, for, as they told him,
they simply waited for an opportunity to disarm them, but they saw that
Bresler was watching them all the time and so could not venture to lift
their rifles.

Sport of the most dangerous nature was sometimes indulged in. Certain
Boer officers, and also privates, would risk their lives to have some
amusement. Commandant W. Fouche was one of those who ventured most.
Naturally brave and sometimes even reckless, he would step in almost
anywhere. In the district of Willowmore, Cape Colony, he one evening
entered a house where two of the enemy's scouts were comfortably seated
by the side of two young ladies. He stepped into the room, greeted all,
and took a seat next to one of the young ladies. To chafe and annoy the
scouts, he placed his hand on the shoulder of one of the young ladies
and pretended to kiss her. This act of his was enough to set one of the
Englishmen on fire. "I shall not allow you," he said, "to touch the
lady. You have no right to do it." Fouche then desisted; he withdrew
his arm, and asked the young lady for some food, as he was very hungry.
His friend calmed down, and they began to converse. By chance one of the
scouts touched his pocket and noticed that there was something strange
in it. "What is that hard thing in your pocket?" he queried. Fouche
replied, "Oh, it is my pipe." "Your pipe is very large indeed," rejoined
the scout. (This pipe was nothing else than a revolver.)

To irritate his unknown friends, Fouche began again to trifle with one
of the ladies. This time the scout lost self-control; he rose, and
taking his chair with both hands, brought it down upon Fouche with all
his might, evidently with the intention of shattering the brains of the
latter. Fouche smartly parried the blow, and the next instant the
striker was a wounded man, and his comrade a prisoner.

In the district of Rouxville the same officer had a similar experience.
There, one evening, he ca