be hard to conceive. In the first place, when there are forty
men in an open truck, it is very difficult to find room for two more.
In the second place, it was bitterly cold, and a pitch-dark night. In
the third place, the even-money chance of a slab or two of gun-cotton
on the line ahead was not a pleasing one to contemplate. In the fourth
place, the men were ordered to 'charge magazines,' and to spend
several hours jolting along with the cold barrel of a loaded rifle
poking one in the ribs, or insinuatingly tucking itself into the nape
of one's neck, could by no stretch of imagination or fire-eating
ambition be called comforting. However, there was one fine piece of
news at any rate to act as a compensation, the surrender of Commandant
Prinsloo and three or four thousand men to General Hunter.

[Illustration: Fifth Class on the Z.A.S.M.]

Once or twice ghostly forms on horseback loomed suddenly out of the
blackness of the veld, momentarily lit up by the glare from the
engine. On each occasion they shouted some warning, but what it was
nobody could make out. Our engine-driver fully expected to be blown
up, and had taken the bit between his teeth, cracking on at a pace
that stirred up the living contents of the trucks behind him, until
if any one of them had had a spare morsel of fat on him, he must
inevitably have been churned into butter. Carrying on at this rate, we
soon arrived at our destination, a small station called Kopjes. And
when very shortly after our arrival two or three dull explosions in
the direction whence we had come signified that the line had been
blown up right enough, our gratitude to the engine-driver was
considerably increased. Nor did his solicitude for our welfare end
even then, for having effected his object, he said we could have as
much boiling water out of the engine as we liked, and in less than
sixty seconds we were drinking steaming hot chocolate, and returning
grateful thanks to our host. If any one class more than another
deserved special recognition during this war, it was the railway
staff--the drivers, stokers, and guards. It is no exaggeration to say
that during the whole war no train was ever run at night but that
these men did not run the risk of being blown sky-high, in addition to
all the other incidental dangers of their hazardous calling.

The break in the line necessitated our waiting some two or three days
at the station, until the remainder of the column got through. Whe