We stayed here for the night, lit great fires of the dry wood, and broiled meat as it can only be done on the live coals of thorn-tree wood. On the following day we departed from this beautiful spot, and soon the wide sand plains stretched around us, dreary in their monotony.
It is a wearisome thing travelling on these wilds. You see nothing but long, low, rolling undulations. In the distance there arises one like an immovable wave in an immovable sea. After an hour's ride—for a commando does not move rapidly—you have reached it, and then in the distance there is another exactly like the one behind you.
And yet, however much the wearied spirit seeks some change, and however dreary these wastes seem, they speak to the heart of him who understands their language. Abandoning oneself to their mysterious influence, one forgets that they are monotonous, as they whisper, softly as the evening breeze which wafts across their broad bosoms, of the Infinite. The mountains fill one with awe and veneration—even so the region where the horizon seems ever to be beyond one's reach.
On Friday, 5th of October, we were on the banks of the Valsch River and camped there. Some days after we trekked to the farm of Mr. B. Greyling. From there the commando went to the shop of Mr. Harvey at Otterspruit, but as it looked like rain, I accepted the kind invitation of Mr. Greyling, and remained under his roof for the night. We stopped at Harvey's shop on Sunday and Monday, and a few burghers were punished there because they had entered the shop and helped themselves to what they thought they wanted. We had a man in command who allowed no irregularities, and the discipline in the commando was perfect. Here I washed my clothes myself, as I had to do often later on. As I had no change, I had to remain at the spruit until what I had washed had got dry. I thought of the future with misgivings. "What should we eat, and what should we drink?" did not trouble me; but "wherewithal should we be clothed?" that filled me with uneasiness. We had, as we were marching along, heard occasionally that everywhere in the State the civil administration of the English had ceased. The patrols of two or three mounted police did not visit the farms any more. Nor were any taxes collected any more from the Boers on their farms or the Kaffirs in their kraals. Since the time about the taking of Ladybrand, it had begun to be impossible for small numbers of the English to go from farm to farm, and to carry out the kind of government which obtains when there is peace in a country. If they wanted now to go from district to district they could not do so otherwise than in numbers of about 1000 men, and always with cannon. This was a new proof to us that it was impossible for England to fight us on an equal footing. We were far from being conquered.
It soon became evident that we were going to come in contact with the enemy, for, not far from us upon a hillock to the south-east of Kopje Alleen, a force moved now and again out from Kroonstad. This little hill lay on our road to the railway, and it was desirable that we should not be prevented there from carrying out the object we had in view. General Botha therefore advanced in that direction on Monday evening. On the following day it was discovered that there were no English on the hill, and a patrol was left there.
In the evening the commando went to the farm of old Mr. Delport, where we remained five days, for it was General Botha's intention to begin his real work of interrupting the communications here. On the following night, therefore, he proceeded to the railway, and broke it up not far from Ventersburg Road Station.
I was glad to be able to remain here some days, because, as my son was ill, he could thus remain under the care of Mrs. Delport and her daughter. When we left he was well again. I owe much gratitude to this kind family.
On Sunday, the 14th October, a fight took place. I had held services first for the Harrismith, and then for the Kroonstad men, and had just returned from the latter when a report arrived from the patrol on the hill that a number of English had driven them away and taken possession of the kopje. General Botha immediately advanced against them, whilst a small number of burghers went with the trolleys we had to the farm of Mr. Taljaart. General Botha attacked from two sides, and after a short fight drove the English from the kopje to the camp at Ventersburg Road Station.
The loss of the English was estimated at four dead and thirteen wounded, and two were taken prisoners. We had no casualties. The following day we went to the beautiful farm of Mr. Hendrik Delport. He had created an oasis in the dreary sand flats. It was refreshing to see the green willows growing here on the wall of the dam, and to walk beneath the healthy fruit trees of the garden. We camped beside the dam wall, and enjoyed the pleasure of being protected by the shade of the willow-trees from the burning rays of the sun.
That night, whilst we were wrapped in peaceful slumbers under the trees, we were awakened by the wild sound of horses' hoofs. My first idea was that it was the enemy making a night attack upon us. I expected every moment to hear the report of rifle shots, and visions of imprisonment arose in my mind. There was a Commandant ill in a waggon which Mr. Delport had hidden between the trees. He put out his head through the waggon-flap and asked his sons—