Nothing in the old gentleman’s manner to show that the enemy were camped only four miles away, although he knew very well that they would visit him the next day, and probably deprive him sooner or later of all he possessed.  Only down the face of his white-haired wife rolled silent tears as she gazed at the bearded faces of her stalwart sons and thought of the long farewell that they would bid her on the morrow!

When we rose the next morning we lost no time in making for the high, boulder-strewn kopje behind the house.  Here we found the farmer’s sons, armed, their horses at hand, gazing through a large telescope at the British camp, which could be plainly distinguished with the naked eye.

Presently a small party of scouts left the camp and came in our direction, riding slowly, and eyeing every little rise or depression in the ground with the utmost distrust.  They reached a farmhouse lying between their camp and ourselves, and after a while we saw a cart leave the farm and drive towards the camp.  Another Boer laying down his arms, beguiled by Buller’s blarney!  Then the scouts came nearer and nearer.  When within a thousand yards or so they encountered a troop of mares grazing on the veld.  Round and round these they rode, plainly intending to annex any that might suit them.  My friends were strongly tempted to fire on these cattle thieves.  Only the thought of their aged parents restrained them, for they well knew the result would be the burning down of their home.

It was plain that the scouts were making for this farm.  We hurried down to the house, saddled our horses—­mine still suffering and hardly able to go at a trot, and went to say good-bye to our hosts.

“Yes, my children,” said the old lady, “it is better to go, for should the British find you here they would only treat us the worse for it.  And we have sorrow enough, God knows.  Come and see my son, my sick and suffering son, who perhaps will never rise from his bed again!”

She conducted us into a bed-chamber, where, pallid and worn, his wife seated by his side, lay the wreck of a once splendid specimen of manhood, now, alas! in the last stage of some wasting disease—­the result of privations endured on commando.  All that we could do was to speak a few weak but well-meant words of comfort to the afflicted family, and then leave them to their fate.

The sons promised to follow us later, as they wished to remain in the neighbourhood to see what became of their home.  My friend and myself rode to another farm in the neighbourhood, undecided as yet whether to make the attempt to get through the enemy’s lines or to turn back; crossing Roberts’ lines of communication in the Free State was easy enough, but here we had Buller to deal with.  Upon reaching this farm we found the occupants greatly excited.  A Hottentot had just arrived from a farm already visited by the enemy, bearing Buller’s proclamation, printed in Dutch and English, and promising protection, compensation, and I know not what all, to those who came in and surrendered.  The entire household and several armed Boers from the vicinity gathered round the farmer.  No one dared to read the proclamation aloud.  It was handed from one to the other, shamefacedly, as if there were something vile in the very touch of the document.