We retreated to Vetpan.  Those of the burghers who retreated more to the right in the direction of Stompies were the best off, as the right wing of the enemy had to be on its guard not to enter the wood there.  The enemy fired at us from horseback to enhance our panic, which was clever of them, as it was impossible for us to turn in any direction.  My horse was overworked, and had changed its pace into a heavy gallop, a sure sign that it would not last much longer.  When I looked round, I saw a few khakies riding on ahead, making our burghers ‘hands-up.’  Fortunately, someone released a spare horse; I mounted it without a saddle and made good my escape, but was incapable of riding for several days after.

Our men made no attempt to check the enemy’s progress.  They all fled, each one bent on saving himself.  A Boer, if once he flies, is not easily turned aside.  But it must be remembered that our horses were terribly overworked.  They had to live on nothing but grass, and very little of that.  We all also recognised the impossibility of checking the enemy, as we ran the risk of shooting our own men and women; so our only chance lay in flight.

The horses of the enemy were soon ‘done up,’ and they had to satisfy themselves with our guns—­two large ones that we had taken from them at Colenso, a damaged bomb-Maxim and several smaller ones.  They took 136 prisoners, among whom were Lieutenant Odendaal, 32 artillerists, 13 burghers, and for the rest women and children and some big, full-grown cowardly men who were in the habit of fleeing with the women and children.  The greater part of the women’s lager fell into their hands.  The few waggons of Generals Smuts and Kemp that they captured were of no importance.  Jooste and Malherbe were also taken prisoners.

I rode with General De la Rey to Tafelkop, where our lager was stationed.  In a week’s time I was back again at Stompies.  I had been there scarcely an hour, when the tidings came that the enemy were camped on Willem Basson’s farm.  The following morning before daybreak I was on my way to Rietfontein.  There, too, I had been only about an hour, when another column came down upon me from the direction of Ventersdorp.  I fled to Tivee Buffelgeschiet with two boiled mealies and a piece of meat in my hands.  Before I reached that farm, half an hour’s ride, my horse was done up.  I crept behind an ant-hill and prepared to defend myself against four scouts who seemed to be coming straight towards me.  Suddenly, however, they turned off in the direction of their main-guard, because, as I afterwards heard, they were threatened by eight of our scouts.

But the khakies were nearing me, and I was obliged to lead my horse into a mealie-veld and to lie down full length in the rain.  They did not appear, however, and I concluded that they had camped at Rietfontein, so I walked my horse to the farm of Mrs. Jansen, one of the few hospitable women in that sparsely inhabited country.  She hastily informed me that the khakies had been there.