At midnight my two friends return. What, the others gone already? And
you still here! No, mount, saddle, hurry, sick or well, go we must, and
come must you! And perhaps, after all, if we ride steadily, who knows?
If my horse fails, why, we will loot another on the road.
We do not take the _spoor_, we slip across the veld; my mount treads
gingerly, but what odds? After to-day he shall rest for a week!
We near the town. Everything is deathly quiet. Where is our commando?
Cautiously we enter the streets, riding far apart, rifles ready. Halt!
here comes a horseman. Don't fire, he is unarmed. Why, 'tis but a boy!
Where's the enemy? Where's the foe, quick? What! Deserted the town? We
look around and see a long string of Boers come speeding along about a
mile behind. Hurrah, we are first in! We race into the market square,
crowds of people, and halt at the Government Buildings. Up with the
_Vierkleur!_ Ah, the proud exultation of seeing our own flag once more
float over the ancient capital! Women press around, young and old,
beautiful alike in pure emotion of patriotic joy, eager to greet their
war-worn men.
My sons, do they live? God be praised, they are here. The father fell at
Belmont, but He has spared the sons!
And mine, I say, and mine; three they are, boys yet--what, no more? All
I have--all I had gone for ever! Oh, Lord, uphold us! Welcome home, my
boy.
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