y with respect to the harsh treatment she
had received the previous day, and thanking her for her great
kindness, warned her not to keep armed burghers in her house, as this
was against the Geneva Convention.

We told her what great pleasure it was for us to meet a lady, as all
our women having been placed in Concentration Camps, we had only had
the society of our fellow-burghers. Before leaving she grasped our
hands, and with tears in her eyes wished us God speed:--"Good-bye, my
friends! May God reward your efforts on behalf of your country.
General, be of good cheer; for however dark the future may seem, be
sure that the Almighty will provide for you!" I can scarcely be dubbed
sentimental, yet the genuine expressions of this good lady, coupled
perhaps with her excellent dinner, did much to put us into better
spirits, and somehow the future did not seem now quite so dark and
terrible as we were previously inclined to believe.

We soon resumed our journey, and that night arrived at a farm
belonging to a certain Venter. We knew that here some houses had
escaped the general destruction and we found that a dwelling house was
still standing and that the Venter family were occupying it. It was
not our practice to pass the night near inhabited houses, as that
might have got the people in trouble with the enemy, but having
off-saddled, I sent up an adjutant to the house to see if he could
purchase a few eggs and milk for our sick companions. He speedily
returned followed by the lady of the house in a very excited
condition:--

"Are you the General?" she asked.

"I have that honour," I replied. "What is the matter?"

"There is much the matter," she retorted loudly. "I will have nothing
to do with you or your people. You are nothing but a band of brigands
and scoundrels, and you must leave my farm immediately. All
respectable people have long since surrendered, and it is only such
people as you who continue the War, while you personally are one of
the ringleaders of these rebels."

"Tut, tut," I said, "where is your husband?"

"My husband is where all respectable people ought to be; with the
English, of course."

"'Hands-uppers,' is that it?" answered my men in chorus, even Mooiroos
the native joining in. "You deserve the D.S.O.," I said, "and if we
meet the English we will mention it to them. Now go back to your house
before these rebels and brigands give you your deserts."

She continued to pour out a flood of insu