s some
wandering Voortrekker had chanced upon the fascinating spot, had
marked down the crystal stream and fertile grazing. Here he had
out-spanned his team, drawn fine with days of trekking, and his
bivouac had grown into a permanent abode. Here he had lived and died,
and no doubt his great-grandchild now owned the pretty little
homestead where the column was to make its midday halt. All Dutch
homesteads are the same, yet there are not two alike, which is a
paradox in which every one who has trekked across the veldt will
agree. There are the same kraals and cattle-runs. The home plantation
surrounded with stone walls. The same outhouses and forage-lofts. The
artesian well, with its fluttering windmill. The dam with dirty water,
the little low-roofed dumpy dwelling, washed white, half-swing doors,
low stoep, and trellis front. It is in their topographical
surroundings only that they differ. The one will stand bleak and
exposed upon a dreary plain, the other will nestle coyly behind a
grove of pointed gum-trees in some kloof or gully. Chance and nature
alone decide if in structure and setting they please the eye. Man is
indifferent. A house is to shield him from the elements, not to
improve the landscape or impress the passer-by.

Although the Intelligence officer knew little about the science of his
new office, yet he had common-sense, which is a soldier's most
valuable attribute, and he knew better after eighteen months of war
than to ride haphazard into a farm-house, even though the farm-house
was in Cape Colony. He borrowed two men from the advance-guard, and,
with the aid of the Tiger and his boys, reconnoitred the environs
before he sent back to the general to tell him that he had found an
ideal spot for the midday halt. Then as the advance-guard occupied the
nearest eminences, he handed his horse over to one of the boys and
walked up to the stoep of the farm-house. The farmer and his _frau_
stood on the verandah to welcome him, and, as is their wont, their
family of girls of all ages crowded in the open door behind their
parents to gain a view of the Kharkis. Just as the inevitable
hand-shake had taken place, up cantered the Tiger.

"Here we are, sir. These are the kind of people we have to deal with,"
and he produced two gaudily framed pictures--President Kruger and
President Steyn. "Our worthy host made a miscalculation this morning,
for I found a Kaffir girl hiding these in the bushes."

"What do you mean?"