CHAPTER IX.
The Last Days of the Boer Capital
Mr. R. H. Davis in Pretoria.
Mr. R. H. Davis in Pretoria.
Before the British advance reached Johannesburg one would never have known, by merely taking note of the life in Pretoria, that a fierce war was being waged in the country. The ladies went on with their calling and shopping, business houses carried on their work as usual, and the hotels were crowded with a throng of men who looked more like speculators in a new country than men fighting for their homes and liberty.
The night I arrived in Pretoria the train pulled into the station just after dark, and the street lights gave the place an air of mystery. The blackness of the night heightened one’s imagination of possible plots and attempted escapes, of spies and sudden attacks. A big Scotchman, who told me his name was “Jack,” shared the compartment with me; he was returning from the front, where he had been fighting for his adopted country. He carried a Mauser, and over his shoulder was slung a bandolier of cartridges; these, with his belt and canteen, made up his entire equipment. His pockets were his haversack, his big tweed coat was his blanket. He gave me the first idea of the real bitterness of the struggle, for he said he would rather die many times over than give up to the British. He was fighting against men of his own blood, perhaps his very relatives; but the spirit of liberty was in him, and he was defending the home he had built in this faraway land.