Having
been in the saddle since six in the morning, I could do no more that
night, although the Government, now installed here, was anxiously
awaiting the resumption of communication. Early the next morning I
started back. I considered it best to start testing from the middle of
the line, and therefore went by road instead of following the fence. A
few miles out of town I met De Wet's force, which was just retreating
from Ventersburg. The men and animals were weary and dusty, but there
was no depression noticeable; hope seemed to spring up afresh after
every defeat, and those who thought of the result at all were confident
that, as the song of the camp had it, "No Englishman shall ever cross
the Vaal."
And now I shall try and draw you a picture of what I saw next. It was a
scene painfully humiliating for a Boer; what it was for an Englishman I
leave you to judge.
Coming along in the dusty road was a little drove of cattle and horses,
about twenty in all, shaggy animals, and of all sizes, evidently the
entire stock of some small farmer. Mounted astride on ponies, driving
the sorry herd, their faces sunburnt, their hair all in a tangle, and
their air the most dejected possible, were two young girls of about
fifteen and seventeen years. Following them was a rickety old waggon.
Under the hood sat an aged man and his wife, the parents of the two
girls.
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