g and thick, and a strong wind still blew to fan it,
things looked very ugly. The flames swept right through the camp, but
luckily the tents were not up. But what would happen when they reached
the guns and ammunition? What, indeed, might have happened, but for
the gallantry of the gunners and naval detachment, it is hard to say.
As it was the ammunition-waggons caught fire and were sufficiently
charred to demonstrate the closeness of the danger. But, as ever, 'the
handy-man' was to the fore, and with promptitude and courage, that
could not have been excelled, managed to extinguish the flames.

And now for a wash--what, no water! No water, which, hungry and
exhausted as they were, every one wanted even more than food. But,
alas! it was too true, and after contenting ourselves with some liquid
mud, flavoured with charcoal, called coffee, and some few mouthfuls
of tough old trek-ox, liberally peppered with burnt grass, we only
waited to hear that reveille was to be at 1.30 a.m. before sinking
down to snatch what rest was possible. This delightful spot rejoiced
in the refreshing name of Orange Grove.

The 12th of August. Shade of St. Grouse! At 3 a.m. we were on the move
in bright moonlight and sharp frost, with a wind blowing which cut
like a knife. After doing some sixteen or seventeen miles we arrived
about 10 a.m. at Wolverdiend station--a large force of cavalry and
infantry assembled there, moving out as we moved in. Camp was pitched,
and a good meal cooked--our first respectable one for three days--and
then--then came the order to start off again in the afternoon. Wearily
we resumed that march, but even as we started the prospect was
brightened by the sound of heavy guns ahead, on our right front. We
finally bivouacked for the night on the most stony kopje in all South
Africa. It was impossible to find a spot anywhere that did not consist
of sharp, jagged rocks, rendering sleep, to any troops less tired than
we were, an utter impossibility. A rumour credited Lord Methuen with
again having brought De Wet to bay, and we were almost positively
assured that next day would end our laborious march.

No less than ten mules were lost during the day, from utter
exhaustion. Many a heart, weary in itself, ached yet more deeply for
the sufferings entailed on the dumb animals.

Reveille at 2, off at 3, was our time-table for the next day. After
proceeding some five or six miles, the force came to the pretty little
Mooi River.