of the
whole gang, and being rather harried to boot--one of those _reculer
pour mieux sauter_ sort of movements where it is all _reculer_ and no
_sauter_. The casualties were, however, small, and we lost nothing
worth bothering about; but Walter took his big brother very seriously
indeed, was much concerned as to how the Chief might regard an
operation which we could not possibly represent as a success, and,
after much cogitation, packed me off to Pretoria to report in person.

He gave me elaborate directions as to how best to approach the subject
when in the presence. "No, don't put it that way, tell it him like
this"--"He'll damn me and you, but whatever you do, don't make
excuses," and so forth. One had read Steevens' appreciation of the
then Sirdar in his _With Kitchener to Khartum_, and had gathered from
newspapers (the worst possible source of information about the
character and the idiosyncrasies of persons of note) that this
commander-in-chief of ours was a cold, exacting, unsympathetic figure,
much more given to jumping down your throat than to patting you on the
back. The consequence was that when, having fetched up in Pretoria
after some adventures, I was wending my way to Lord K.'s headquarters
I felt very much as one does when repairing to the dentist. It was
worse, indeed, than going to the dentist, because when I got there
Colonel Hubert Hamilton, the Military Secretary (who was killed when
in command of the Third Division soon after it reached the Lys from
the Aisne in October 1914), greeted me with "Very sorry, but the
Chief's awfully busy to-day. Roll up about this time to-morrow, will
you, like a good chap?" It was the same story again on the next
day--the Chief up to the neck in correspondence. But on presenting
myself on the third day, Hamilton promptly ushered me into the great
man's study, where he was sitting at his desk.

"What d'you want?" demanded Lord K. I began explaining about our
little affair near Belfast; but he cut me short with "Oh, I don't want
to hear about all that. Had any trouble getting here?" Yes, the train
in front of mine had been blown up, and----"They'll bag you on the way
back," interrupted the Chief cheerily, "so I'd better get what I can
out of you now; my brother writes that you've been about a good deal
on the east side, and I'm going to take that in hand very shortly.
Come along over here." We went across to where there was a huge great
map of the Eastern Transvaal,