that I could lay my hand on some of the "quadrimum merum," to render the comparison a little more happy.
At three o'clock the moon rose, and I awoke the bivouac by shouting—"Inspan." Instantly all were alive; the Hottentots tumbled out of their waggons, the men jumped to their feet and folded their blankets, the sentries were called in, and in ten minutes we were "trekking" across the plain. As we descended the little hollow of the Clu-clu, enveloped in a thick fog, the change was most extraordinary, the chilly raw air striking through us instantaneously, and as suddenly ceasing on our emerging from it on the opposite side. In many places the bush by the wayside glowed with bright scarlet clusters of the bignonia,[12] which wreathed among the trees. Suddenly Fort Beaufort opened on us, in the centre of a green plain below, the fine mountains of the Elandsberg and Tyumie forming a noble background.
We found the town looking wretchedly dull and deserted, the garrison being reduced to a small detachment only of the Cape Mounted Rifles, besides the Levies.
The Commandant ordered the Commissariat to have the waggons loaded by dark, as the General had directed their return by moonlight.
We accordingly started at nine o'clock the same evening, but with only half the original escort, the Fingoes not making their appearance at the appointed time, their invariable custom on such occasions, remaining behind, making merry in the kraals of their friends, with a glorious disregard of time, and orders. An attack was fully expected, as well on account of our reduced numbers and heavily-laden waggons as from the fact that our errand and return were as well known to the enemy as ourselves. At midnight we halted to let the oxen graze for a couple of hours, while the men threw themselves down on the grass to snatch a little sleep. At two we were off again. Dark glens, hill, dale, and bush, were passed without interruption, and we were once more on open ground. The encampment having been moved during our absence, I rode forward with the Conductor (a most valuable assistant, attached to each train of government waggons), for about two miles, cantering from one rise to another, looking out for the fires, which we at last discovered at a considerable distance, and turning back, put the waggons on the right track, and reached the camp at daylight.
For a week we remained stationary, patrols going out almost daily to different parts of the neighbourhood to check the enemy, who would suddenly appear in the most opposite directions; one day, for instance, attacking a train of waggons in the Mancazana, and killing seven of the escort; and two days after, firing on the post riders between Fort Beaufort and Graham's Town, killing six on the spot, and wounding three others.
Those of us who remained in camp amused themselves with quail shooting, or with reading under the shade of the yellow-wood trees. Hundreds of turtle-doves swarmed in every direction; and though at first there were some scruples about killing them, they were soon remorselessly shot and converted into pigeon pies. Monkeys and brilliantly-plumaged touracos, or crested parrots, of a dark green, with purple and crimson tails and wings, filled the belt of the wood along the river with their discordant chattering.
One morning, in beating for quail along a reedy sluit, or watercourse, we came on the corpses of some of the Kaffirs killed during the late patrols, which, half devoured by vultures and jackals, lay festering in the jungle.
For three days we endured the misery of a sand storm. The hot air was filled with clouds of fine red sand, driven by a burning wind, and shutting out every object at a few yards' distance, blinding the eyes and stifling the breath, while it not only penetrated the tents, covering everything with a thick red coating, but even found its way into every box and valise. Nothing can be more wretchedly uncomfortable than one of these inflictions, unluckily but too common. The skin becomes dry and hot; an irresistible lassitude is felt, accompanied with headache; the face and hair are red with sand, which, to complete the discomfort, finds its way even under one's clothing. No one ventures out who can possibly avoid it, though even a house is but a partial protection, the closest-fitting doors and windows failing to exclude the finer particles, as the red hue of the furniture quickly shows. Those who, like ourselves, had no choice, braved the storm, with heads bent down and eyes half shut, or shielded by wire goggles with dark blue glasses, giving a most comical aspect to the wearer.