nd overflow of the dayspring.

Small wonder if amid such an entertainment one forgets the bustle in the
now visible camp, and smaller still if one forgets that one ever wanted
to sleep. Another trumpet sounds--"Boot and saddle"--and the bustle
becomes acute as the mules are harnessed and horses saddled. And from
some near squadron which is to form the advance guard are heard the few
sharp orders that are necessary to transform it from a crowd of men and
horses to a military unit. "Fall in. Number!" And the numbers run down a
switchback of sound as each man shouts his own. "Stand to your horses.
Prepare to mount. Mount. Advance by sections from the right.
Walk--march!" And with the last word the day's work begins.

On Tuesday morning I had ridden on far in advance of the column in
search of buck. There was very little cover, and at the first shot they
were off like the wind, so I gave it up. Just beyond the ridge where I
had been shooting I came upon the pan of water that was to be our
outspan, and beside the pan was a farmhouse, outside of which stood a
little group of people. An old woman, a young man, a girl, two
middle-aged matrons, a man horribly deformed--people of different ages
and manners, yet having in common one startling thing: they were all
shaking with terror. It was startling because they were the only living
creatures except birds and springbuck that I had seen for miles of that
lonely march. The heath stretching to the sky north and south and east
and west; the muddy pan; the poor house and outbuildings; the solitary
horseman; the terrified group--these filled the picture; and it was not
without misgivings that I approached the house.

"Oh, sir" (it was one of the matrons speaking English with the pleasant
deliberation of a Dutchwoman), "was it you whom we heard shooting on the
hill?"

When I said that it was they all gasped with relief, and the women broke
out into a clamour of talk and questioning. Was the army coming? Were
there many troops? Where were the Kaffirs? Was I sure that there were no
Kaffirs about? When I had reassured them on the point the deformed man
spoke.

"The Kaffirs are jumping about. Ja! They have looted my farm. All my
stock also. We are afraid. I am waiting to go to my farm, which is one
hour over the hill, but when I heard your gun I was afraid the Kaffirs
were near. They know we are only women or sick men here, and they have
guns, and they are jumping about. Your Colonel a