ad been made
bullet-proof in building up a wall by filling them with earth or sand.
The _tin_ houses, according to the popular term, were really the common
grey corrugated iron so easily riveted or screwed together into a hut,
and forming outer and partition walls, and fairly rain-proof roofing,
but as ugly in appearance as hot beneath the torrid sun.

Groenfontein consisted of a group of this class of house ranged about a
wide market-square, while here and there outside were warehouses and
sheds and a few farms.

Bob Dickenson said it was the ugliest and dirtiest place that ever
called itself a town; and he was fairly right about the former. As to
the latter, it might have been worse. Its greatest defect was the
litter of old meat and other tins, while there were broken bottles
enough to act as a defence when attacked by strangers.

The Boer inhabitants had for the most part fled; those who were left
lived under the protection of the British force, which they preferred to
being out on commando, using rifle, and risking their lives.

The empty houses left by the former inhabitants had at once been taken
possession of for officers' and soldiers' quarters; the long warehouses
and barns for stabling; and a big wool warehouse, happily containing
many bales of wool, had been turned into mess and club room, the great
bales making excellent couches, and others forming breastworks inside
the windows and the big double doors.

Here the officers off duty lounged and rested, and here upon this
particular night they were gathered round the social board to dine, each
officer with his own servant; and it is worthy of remark that with
officer and man, rifle, revolver, and sword were racked close at hand.

"Round the social board" is a most appropriate term, though not quite
correct; for, while social in the highest degree, quite a brotherly
spirit influencing the officers present, the board was really two, held
together by a couple of cross-pieces and laid upon barrels, while the
seats were of all kinds, from cartridge-boxes to up-ended flour-barrels,
branded _Na_. and _Pa_. and _Va_., and various other contractions of
long-sounding United States names, which indicated where the fine white
flour they once contained had been grown and ground.

The mess cook had done the best he could, and provided some excellent
bread, but it was rather short in quantity. As to the meat, it was hot;
but there were no dish-covers, which Bob Di