ainst a possible attack. Deep
trenches were dug all round the town, electric wires put up, while the
hills bristled with cannon and searchlights played from the forts
incessantly at night.

The realities of war were forced upon one by the increased activity on
the Eastern Railway line to Delagoa Bay, plainly visible from the side
verandah at Harmony, and, daily, train loads passed of armed soldiers,
or Boer women and children being brought in from the devastated farms.

Armoured trains and Red Cross carriages steamed in and out, horses,
cattle, provision loads--everything that could remind one of the
fierce strife raging throughout the land.

At this time it became evident that a thief or thieves were helping
themselves at night to thoroughbred fowls and fruit at Harmony, and
Mrs. van Warmelo asked the sergeant-major of the Military Mounted
Police to consult with her about catching the miscreants.

She suspected Kaffirs--certainly not the troops encamped about the
place, for a more orderly set of soldiers it would have been hard to
find. Their behaviour was always so exemplary that they were now and
then rewarded with baskets of fruit and vegetables from Harmony's
overflowing abundance.

It was therefore perfectly natural that the sergeant-major should
hurry over to the house, indignant and sympathetic, to listen to Mrs.
van Warmelo's grievances and to lay plans for the capture of the
cunning thief.

That he came at dawn seemed evident, for though the police watched
every night, they never caught sight of him, and yet there were fowls
missing every morning. Things were beginning to look rather suspicious
when, in spite of the vigilant watch kept by the police, there were
only nineteen fowls left of the sixty. Mrs. van Warmelo made up her
mind to watch for herself.

Early next morning, when a fine white cock had disappeared, she set
out with one of the native servants, and, following the track made by
the white feathers the bird had lost in its struggles, she came upon
the thieves' den. An ideal spot in a little hollow by the riverside,
surrounded by trees and shrubs! A small fireplace, a few old sacks and
tins and a mass of feathers and bones told their own tale, and Mrs.
van Warmelo went home well satisfied.

The sergeant-major, when he heard her story, said he thought it would
be better to catch the thief red-handed in the fowl-run than to
surprise him in his den, and the police were set to watch again that