Presently a small party of scouts left the camp and came in our
direction, riding slowly, and eyeing every little rise or depression in
the ground with the utmost distrust. They reached a farmhouse lying
between their camp and ourselves, and after a while we saw a cart leave
the farm and drive towards the camp. Another Boer laying down his arms,
beguiled by Buller's blarney! Then the scouts came nearer and nearer.
When within a thousand yards or so they encountered a troop of mares
grazing on the veld. Round and round these they rode, plainly intending
to annex any that might suit them. My friends were strongly tempted to
fire on these cattle thieves. Only the thought of their aged parents
restrained them, for they well knew the result would be the burning down
of their home.
It was plain that the scouts were making for this farm. We hurried down
to the house, saddled our horses--mine still suffering and hardly able
to go at a trot, and went to say good-bye to our hosts.
"Yes, my children," said the old lady, "it is better to go, for should
the British find you here they would only treat us the worse for it. And
we have sorrow enough, God knows. Come and see my son, my sick and
suffering son, who perhaps will never rise from his bed again!"
She conducted us into a bed-chamber, where, pallid and worn, his wife
seated by his side, lay the wreck of a once splendid specimen of
manhood, now, alas! in the last stage of some wasting disease--the
result of privations endured on commando.
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