The owner of the nearest farm joined us while we were thus engaged—­a tall, red-bearded man of grave and intelligent mien.  ’They’ve had heavy fighting this morning,’ he said.  ‘Not since Monday week’ (the Black Monday of the war) ’has there been such firing.  But they are nearly finished now for the day.’  Absorbed by the distant drama, all the more thrilling since its meaning was doubtful and mysterious, we had shown ourselves against the sky-line, and our conversation was now suddenly interrupted.  Over the crest of the hill to the rear, two horsemen trotted swiftly into view.  A hundred yards away to the left three or four more were dismounting among the rocks.  Three other figures appeared on the other side.  We were surrounded—­but by the Natal Carabineers.  ‘Got you, I think,’ said the sergeant, who now arrived.  ’Will you kindly tell us all about who you are?’ We introduced ourselves as President Kruger and General Joubert, and presented the farmer as Mr. Schreiner, who had come to a secret conference, and having produced our passes, satisfied the patrol that we were not eligible for capture.  The sergeant looked disappointed.  ’It took us half an hour to stalk you, but if you had only been Dutchmen we’d have had you fixed up properly.’  Indeed, the whole manoeuvre had been neatly and cleverly executed, and showed the smartness and efficiency of these irregular forces in all matters of scouting and reconnaissance.  The patrol was then appeased by being photographed ‘for the London papers,’ and we hastened to accept the farmer’s invitation to lunch.  ‘Only plain fare,’ said he, ’but perhaps you are used to roughing it.’

The farm stood in a sheltered angle of the hill at no great distance from its summit.  It was a good-sized house, with stone walls and a corrugated iron roof.  A few sheds and outhouses surrounded it, four or five blue gums afforded a little shade from the sun and a little relief to the grassy smoothness of the landscape.  Two women met us at the door, one the wife, the other, I think, the sister of our host.  Neither was young, but their smiling faces showed the invigorating effects of this delicious air.  ‘These are anxious times,’ said the older; ’we hear the cannonading every morning at breakfast.  What will come of it all?’ Over a most excellent luncheon we discussed many things with these kind people, and spoke of how the nation was this time resolved to make an end of the long quarrel with the Boers, so that there should be no more uncertainty and alarm among loyal subjects of the Queen.  ’We have always known,’ said the farmer, ’that it must end in war, and I cannot say I am sorry it has come at last.  But it falls heavily on us.  I am the only man for twenty miles who has not left his farm.  Of course we are defenceless here.  Any day the Dutchmen may come.  They wouldn’t kill us, but they would burn or plunder everything, and it’s all I’ve got in the world.  Fifteen years have I worked at this place, and I said