ched Harmony. The prisoner
was at Potchefstroom.

Two more days of suspense and a note from Major Hoskins came,
enclosing a telegram--"Van Warmelo leaving to-morrow for Fort
Johannesburg."

Great rejoicings! The women had begun to fear that their hero had been
whisked away to some remote portion of the globe, without one word
from them.

General Maxwell's letters of introduction acted like a charm when
presented at the various military departments in the Golden City.

Colonel Mackenzie, the Military Governor, gave the women a letter of
introduction to the O.C. troops, who directed them to the
Provost-Marshal, Captain Short, informing them that they would find
him at his office in the Fort.

The Provost-Marshal did not know that more prisoners from
Ventersdorp were expected that day. He thought there must be some
mistake--unless--yes, there would be another train at 5 o'clock that
afternoon.

The ladies were advised to call again on Sunday morning and drove to
Heath's Hotel, where they had taken up their quarters. How quiet and
deserted the Golden City looked! How bleak and desolate, with the
first breath of winter upon it!

Poor Hansie had a shocking cold, and as she drove through the silent
streets with her mother all the miseries of the past eighteen months
came crowding into her aching heart and throbbing brain.

What would the meeting be like to-morrow? Would he be changed? And
what would he have to tell? The question still remained whether he
would be allowed to tell them anything about the war at all----

Suddenly a brilliant thought flashed into Hansie's mind.

"Oh, mother, let us go to the Braamfontein Station and see the train
arrive. I know we won't be allowed to speak to him, but we may at
least wave our hands and _look_ at him."

Her mother was delighted with the thought, and at 4 o'clock that
afternoon they took a cab to Braamfontein Station.

The train had been delayed, and would be in at 6 instead of 5 o'clock,
so they were told, but, for fear of having been misinformed, they
decided to wait at the station.

Cold, dusty, pitiless, the keen wind blew on that unfriendly platform.
There was no ladies' waiting room--in fact, it seemed as if the rooms
had all been utilised for other, perhaps military, purposes.

It is incredible the amount of suffering that can be crowded into one
hour of waiting!

Thank God, at last the train steamed in.

Armed troops and an unusually large number of pas