They stopped a few hundred paces away from us and rode up and down there for a little while. Suddenly they dashed up to my waggon, came up to where I was sitting behind, and one of them asked me where the Boers were.
I answered, “There are none here.”
“When were they here last?”
“They went away from here yesterday afternoon.”
“Where are the commandoes?” he asked.
“I know nothing about the commandoes.”
Then I told him that as the Kaffirs that were among the troops behaved so badly and cruelly to women and children I did not want to have anything to do with coloured people. I only had to deal with white people, and so they must just keep the coloured ones away from me.
He was polite, and said, “Very well, Mrs De la Rey, you shall not be troubled by the Kaffirs.”
But they kept coming continually to the waggon. I thought, “It is rousing their appetite for burning.” A Kaffir had already told my boy when he was by the fire that this waggon and tent would have to be burnt.
Colonel Williams came to my daughter in front of the tent and asked whose waggon it was. When she had told him came the cruel order, “It does not matter to me whose waggon it is. The woman must get out, were she the Queen herself, and the waggon and tent must be burnt.”