chosen to remain behind in Bethlehem, and who, from what
their delighted friends heard, had been compelled by the British to foot
it all the way to Reitz. We went out to the camp, and reported
ourselves. It was now bitterly cold, the snow-topped Drakensberg keeping
the temperature at an uncomfortable proximity to zero. But the men were
nearly all well provided with warm khaki uniforms reaped at Roodewal,
the mountains were full of cattle and corn, and we felt that we could
easily hold these almost inaccessible heights against the British cordon
formed outside.

But it was fated otherwise. A despatch rider arrived from the
Transvaal; the situation there urgently demanded the encouragement of
Steyn's presence. To leave this impregnable stronghold and venture
across the open plains below needed all the boldness of De Wet, all the
steadfast courage of Steyn. These leaders had never been known to
falter; they did not falter now. Everything was arranged in the utmost
secrecy. For a few days there was a hurrying to and fro of commandoes,
and then one morning De Wet's laager was seen to have disappeared.

Prinsloo was left behind over four thousand men, with orders to stand
his own.

THROUGH THE CORDON

IT was no easy matter to pass through the British forces that lay massed
around the mountain-chain. We were two thousand horsemen, and our
vehicles, carts, ox-and mule-waggons formed a procession fully six miles
long. When we trekked out of the nek strict orders were given that there
was to be no loud talking and no matches struck. This latter was
especially hard on such a crowd of inveterate smokers. I remember whilst
we were riding mutely along, listening to the creaking and jolting of
the waggons, and wondering whether we were going to get through, or what
the alternative would be if we did not, we suddenly saw someone
deliberately strike a match and light his pipe.

"Who struck that match?" came from the front. Then the delinquent
himself spoke up--

"It's this confounded Kafir of mine. Was it you, Jantje?"

"Yes, baas," responded the dutiful black, bobbing up and down on his
master's spare horse.

"Give him twenty with the sjambok."

"Right!" Jantje and his master turned out of the road, and soon the
unmistakable thwack! thwack! of the sjambok could be heard, mingled with
subdued ejaculations in Kafir and Dutch. But judging by the expression
on Jantje's features by the camp fire that night, as he blew lo