The ground was vibrating from the firing of the “khakis.” The way was full of sand and rocks. It was very rough travelling. I kept wondering every moment where the boy could be with the cows; but it was now a time when each one had to consider his own safety, without troubling to look after me. I was waiting for the moment to come when I should be taken prisoner. Fortunately, young Jacobus De la Rey, son of Pieter, caught sight of my waggon and came up. He took the whip and began driving the oxen onwards while he rode on his horse alongside. He came out on the veldt with my waggon, and, as he knew the neighbourhood very well, he said, “Aunt, I shall do what I can to get you out safely.”
“Very well,” I said, “but you must not go and get yourself taken for my sake. If the English come up with us, then fly away, I shall not come to any harm. If they must catch me—well, then, let them do so.”
The mountains were echoing back the sound of their firing. I said, “There is one comfort, I cannot see any cannon; if they were to begin to fire them at me I should have to give in then.”
We went on as hard as we could. Young Kobus De la Rey said, “They are coming over the Rand.”
“Then we are in their hands,” I answered.
Then my boy came up with us and told me that the “khakis” had taken my cows. They had so fired upon him that he had taken to his heels and left the cows behind. That was bad news; I did not want to listen to it, although we too were in great danger, and at any moment they might come and take me prisoner also.
“Our people”.
I told them that they could not go on any longer driving the oxen like that. We should have to give in. But still the brave Jacobus kept on, and said, “No, aunt, your oxen are getting on very well. Don’t you worry about them.”
I could not understand myself how it was that my waggons were not taken. There was not one commando there to keep the “khakis” back.