hat
there isn't, and that's good enough for me. If there _is_ anyone in
that garden"--and he pointed to the patch of trees--"you bet they won't
send out a flag of truce asking you to get out of the way before they
shoot. We've been sent to round up cattle out of that there garden, but
I believe the cattle are all a blind. Anyway, I'm not going near it till
I'm sure of it. I believe it's a trap."

They must have been watching us from the garden with their eyes on the
sights of their rifles, for no sooner had we turned our horses' heads
than _bang, bang, bang, bang--phtt, phtt, phtt, phtt_! We doubled
ourselves on our saddles and our horses stretched along the road, while
for perhaps thirty seconds our ears twitched to a hail of bullets that
lasted until we were out of range. While we were still racing my pony,
which was last, suddenly jumped into the air and shot past the big
cavalry horse, laying herself flat on the ground like a hare; and it was
not until she had carried me far out of range that I found the warm
blood from a bullet wound running down her leg. I had no further
interest that day but to have her attended to. At any rate, I think the
shot which was fired at her was one of the last fired in the battle of
Dreifontein.

The battle was fought on Saturday, March 10th. On Sunday morning we
found that the Boers had melted away from before us, and the army
marched on twelve miles to Aasvoegel's Kop. On Monday the main body was
at Venters Vlei; and at four o'clock that afternoon General French,
after an artillery engagement, occupied a few hills commanding
Bloemfontein, and sent in an ultimatum requiring the surrender of the
town within twenty-four hours.

Early on Tuesday morning Mr. Gwynne (Reuter's correspondent), Mr.
Oppenheim, of the _Daily News_, and another correspondent, rode into
Bloemfontein and found that President Steyn had departed during the
night, that the Boer forces had retired from the immediate neighbourhood
of the town, and that the people were willing to surrender. They rode
back to Lord Roberts (who was by this time well under weigh with his
column), escorting the Landdrost in his Cape cart. The Field Marshal
was, I believe, sitting on a low hill having breakfast with his staff
when the keys were delivered up to him. This formality was conducted
with the utmost courtesy and good-humour, and when it was over the march
was resumed. Lord Roberts rode on and joined the cavalry, and a
processio