When I woke up on the morning of the 22nd of March, the legend “Piquetberg Road” was just visible on a big white board opposite the carriage.  So this was our destination.  There was a chill sense in every one of not having got very far towards the seat of war—­indeed, we were scarcely eighty miles from Capetown; but our spirits were soon raised by the advent of some Tommies of the Middlesex Militia, who spoke largely of formidable bodies of rebels in the neighbourhood, of an important pass to guard, and of mysterious strategical movements in the near future; so that we felt cheerful enough as we detrained our guns and horses, harnessed up, and marched over a mile and a half of scrub-clothed veldt, to the base of some steep hills, where we pitched our camp, and set to work to clear the ground of undergrowth.  We were at the edge of a great valley, through which ran the line of railway, disappearing behind us in a deep gorge in the hills, where a little river ran.  This was the pass we were to help to guard.

Below in the valley lay a few white houses round the station, a farm or two dotted the distant slopes, and the rest was desert scrub and veldt.

Now that the right section had parted from us, we had two officers, Captain Budworth commanding, and Lieutenant Bailey; about sixty men, two guns, two ammunition waggons, and two transport waggons, with their mules and Kaffir drivers, under a conductor.  Our little square camp was only a spot upon the hill-side, the guns and horse-lines in the middle, a tent for the officers on one side, and a tent at each corner for the men.  Here we settled down to the business-like routine of camp life, with great hopes of soon being thought worthy to join a brigade in the field.

The work was hard enough, but to any one with healthy instincts the splendid open-air life was very pleasant.  Here are some days from my diary:—­

“March 23.—­Marching order parade.  Drove centres of our sub-division waggon.

“I have got a saddle for my own horse at last, and feel happier.  Where it came from I don’t know.

“I am ‘stableman’ for three days, and so missed a bathing parade to-day, which is a nuisance, as there is no means of washing here nearer than a river some distance off, to which the others rode.  While they were away there was an alarm of fire in the lines of the Middlesex Militia, next to ours.  Bugles blew the ‘alarm.’  The scrub had caught fire quite near the tents, and to windward of us.  There were only four of us in camp, one a bombardier, who took command and lost his head, and after some wildly contradictory orders, said to me, ‘Take that gun to a place of safety.’  How he expected me to take the gun by myself I don’t know.  However, the fire went out, and all was well.

“I forgot to say that on the day we left Stellenbosch, a mail at last came in, and I got my first letters.  They came by the last mail, and we have evidently missed a lot.  Also a telegram, weeks old, saying Henry (my brother) had joined Strathcona’s Horse in Ottawa and was coming out here.  Delighted to hear it, but I shall probably never see him.