hap than that of
extreme fatigue, which difficulty the captain alone had been able to
surmount: the rest of his cyclists, if not prisoners, were
spread-eagled over the veldt at such spots where death had overtaken
their machines.

Now what was written in the despatch which the cyclist officer had
brought is not known to the chronicler of the adventures of this
brigade. But it was evidently couched in not over friendly language,
for the brigadier's face worked with annoyance as he read it. Having
read it he tore it up into very small pieces and sat for a moment or
two staring steadfastly at the candle.

"Anything serious, sir?"

_Brigadier._ "No; the old man is peevish,--says that my disobedience
of his orders has caused us to lose De Wet. That he has washed his
hands of me, and that it only remains to report me to a higher
authority. To be philosophical, he has some grounds for his
peevishness if he really believes that he has ever been nearer to De
Wet than the latter gentleman desired. But you get no return in an
argument with seniors--they have the whip hand of you every time; so
here, ole man Baker, bring out your stilus and tablets and write out
brigade orders. Two hours hence we march direct on Hopetown. Mr
Intelligence, mark out a route, and mind you have a good guide.
Everything on a night like this will depend on your guiding." Such is
the history of a transformation scene which is of common occurrence
when men make war. A camp sleeping heavily and peacefully at midnight,
in a couple of hours may have disappeared, to be found sorrowfully
toiling along in the dark on some venture bent....

The Intelligence officer had reason to congratulate himself that he
had already got his guide held by the ear by the Tiger, as it is a big
undertaking to conjure up guides on notice only given an hour before
midnight. The guide himself was not best pleased, and aped that air of
imbecility which on occasions similar to this is the Dutch form of
passive resistance. But the Tiger took him in hand, primed him with a
few simple truths and the history of some imaginary executions, so
that he waxed more communicative when he found himself in the centre
of the advance-guard of twelve dismounted dragoons with fixed
bayonets,[34] with which the brigadier when night marching was
accustomed to head his advance-guard.

There is a limit to the fascinations of a night march if you have to
make many of them, especially if it is underta