The afternoon dragged away before the train passed near Dundee.  Lieutenant Frankland had helped to storm Talana Hill, and was much excited to see the field of battle again under these new circumstances.  ’It would all have been different if Symons had lived.  We should never have let them escape from under our guns.  That commando would have been smashed up altogether.’

‘But what about the other commando that came up the next day?’

’Oh, the General would have managed them all right.  He’d have, soon found some way of turning them out.’  Nor do I doubt he would, if the fearless confidence with which he inspired his troops could have protected his life.  But the bullet is brutally indiscriminating, and before it the brain of a hero or the quarters of a horse stand exactly the same chance to the vertical square inch.

After Talana Hill was lost to view we began to search for Majuba, and saw it just as night closed in—­a great dark mountain with memories as sad and gloomy as its appearance.  The Boer guards pointed out to us where they had mounted their big cannons to defend Laing’s Nek, and remarked that the pass was now impregnable.  I could not resist saying, ‘This is not the only road into the Transvaal.’  ’Ah, but you English always come where we want you to come.’

We now approached the frontier.  I had indulged in hopes of leaving the train while in the Volksrust Tunnel by climbing out of the window.  The possibility had, however, presented itself to Spaarwater, for he shut both windows, and just before we reached the entrance opened the breech of his Mauser to show me that it was fully loaded.  So prudence again imposed patience.  It was quite dark when the train reached Volksrust, and we knew ourselves actually in the enemy’s country.  The platform was densely crowded with armed Boers.  It appeared that two new commandos had been called out, and were waiting for trains to take them to the front.  Moreover, a strong raiding party had just come back from British Swaziland.  The windows were soon blocked with the bearded faces of men who gazed stolidly and commented freely to each other on our appearance.  It was like being a wild beast in a cage.  After some time a young woman pushed her way to the window and had a prolonged stare, at the end of which she observed in a loud voice (I must record it)—­’Why, they’re not so bad looking after all.’  At this there was general laughter, and Spaarwater, who was much concerned, said that they meant no harm, and that if we were annoyed he would have everyone cleared away.  But I said:  ‘Certainly not; let them feast their eyes.’  So they did, for forty minutes by the clock.

Their faces were plain and rough, but not unkindly.  The little narrow-set pig-eyes were the most displeasing feature.  For the rest they looked what they were, honest ignorant peasants with wits sharpened by military training and the conditions of a new country.  Presently I noticed at the window furthest from the platform one of quite a different type.  A handsome boyish face without beard or moustache, and a very amiable expression.  We looked at each other.  There was no one else at that side of the carriage.