y had sown with infinite patience and undaunted courage. General Hunter,
to whom the chief command had just been given, was there, surrounded by his
staff, a soldierly figure worthy of a nation's trust; Clements, keen faced,
sharp voiced, with alertness written in each lineament; Paget, whose fiery
spirit spoke from his mobile face, his blood, hot as an Afghan sun,
flashing the workings of his mind into his face as sunlight flashes from
steel; and Rundle, hawk-eyed and stern, no friend to Pressmen, but a
soldier every inch, one of those men whose hands build empires. Had he been
stripped of modern gear that day, and placed in Roman trappings, one would
have looked behind him to see if Caesar meant to grace the show; but Caesar
was not there.

One of the greatest soldiers since the world began was missing from our
ranks, the hero Roberts, whose great intellect had planned the _coup_
which his generals had carried to maturity. Yet, though Lord Roberts
planned each general move, an immense amount of actual work was left to the
generals. The country they had to pass through was rugged and inhospitable.
The foe they had to fight was brave, resourceful, and well supplied with
all munitions of war; a single mistake on the part of any one of them would
have wrecked the magnificent plan of the Commander-in-Chief. But no
mistakes were made; each general worked as if his soul's salvation depended
upon his individual efforts. Where all are good, as a rule it is hard to
make a distinction; but in this instance one man stands out above his
fellows, and that man is General Sir Leslie Rundle, the commander of the
Eighth Division. His task from the first was herculean. He had to hold a
line fully one hundred miles in length; day after day, week after week, the
enemy tried to break that line and pour their forces into the territory we
had conquered. Had they succeeded, they would have shaken the whole of
South Africa to its very centre. This task kept Sir Leslie Rundle busy
night and day. Wherever he camped, spies dogged his footsteps; black men
and white men constantly upon his track. His every move was rapidly
reported to our ever-watchful enemies. But, quick as the enemy undoubtedly
were in all their movements, General Rundle nullified their efforts by his
rapidity. So terribly hard did he work his men that they nicknamed him
"Rundle, the Tramp." How the men stood it I cannot understand. I know of no
other men in all the world who would