s of horsemen struggled
on, fetlock-deep in mud, with the rain lashing their faces. At night
without cover, drenched and bitterly cold, the troopers threw themselves
down on the sodden veld to snatch a few hours' sleep before renewing the
interminable pursuit. The drift over the Caledon flowed deep and strong,
but the Boer had passed and the Briton must pass also. Thirty guns took
to the water, diving completely under the coffee-coloured surface, to
reappear glistening upon the southern bank. Everywhere there were signs
of the passage of the enemy. A litter of crippled or dying horses marked
their track, and a Krupp gun was found abandoned by the drift. The
Dewetsdorp prisoners, too, had been set loose, and began to stumble
and stagger back to their countrymen, their boots worn off, and their
putties wrapped round their bleeding feet. It is painful to add that
they had been treated with a personal violence and a brutality in marked
contrast to the elaborate hospitality shown by the British Government to
its involuntary guests.

On December 6th De Wet had at last reached the Orange River a clear day
in front of his pursuers. But it was only to find that his labours had
been in vain. At Odendaal, where he had hoped to cross, the river was in
spate, the British flag waved from a post upon the further side, and a
strong force of expectant Guardsmen eagerly awaited him there. Instantly
recognising that the game was up, the Boer leader doubled back for the
north and safety. At Rouxville he hesitated as to whether he should snap
up the small garrison, but the commandant, Rundle, showed a bold face,
and De Wet passed on to the Coomassie Bridge over the Caledon. The small
post there refused to be bluffed into a surrender, and the Boers,
still dropping their horses fast, passed on, and got over the drift
at Amsterdam, their rearguard being hardly across before Knox had also
reached the river.

On the 10th the British were in touch again near Helvetia, where
there was a rearguard skirmish. On the 11th both parties rode
through Reddersberg, a few hours separating them. The Boers in
their cross-country trekking go, as one of their prisoners observed,
'slap-bang at everything,' and as they are past-masters in the art of ox
and mule driving, and have such a knowledge of the country that they can
trek as well by night as by day, it says much for the energy of Knox
and his men that he was able for a fortnight to keep in close touch wit