On Monday, after we had spent a peaceful Sunday all together, the Generals started for Klerksdorp. I went to a place not very far from Schweizer-Renecke, for the troops were stationed in great force at Rooiwal, and were also scattered about at many other places. Here were a great many “treks” of women and children, who were also very much afraid of the troops. Our commandoes were not very far away, so that I could easily hear if the “khakis” were coming. I thought that if only they would let me stay quietly till the Generals had left them I should be happy. But we kept on hearing of more and more troops advancing. I said, “How can that be? I thought that while the Generals were with them there would be peace for the time.” But no; it grew worse. I had a great many people and cattle with me, so that we kept ourselves well informed as to what the “khakis” were doing. We hardly knew now where next to go: the blockhouses were hemming us in on every side--we had to be on the watch the whole time. Suddenly we saw some horsemen come dashing on, and they called out to us, “Here are the ‘khakis.’” It was a dreadful commotion. Everyone was saddling and harnessing. My oxen were not there, and I had no man with me to help. There were many people, but they had to see to their own safety. “Ah!” I thought, “if only my oxen would come!” I did not want to be taken prisoner now after having escaped so many times, especially when we were, perhaps, nearly at the end of the terrible war. If only I could get off this time! As people passed me they cried out, “Take your spider, and leave your waggons and everything behind you.” I replied, “You go on.” And the children began to cry, and to say, “What is going to become of us? Everyone is hurrying on!” “Let them go on,” I said. “All their women and children are prisoners; why should they trouble about us?” The people who had waggons abandoned them and hastened on. As my waggon stood by the way-side they kept on telling me that I must come too--that the troops were close at hand. At last there were my oxen coming over the rise. The children helped to catch all the oxen that we could get inspanned. Then I saw a troop of horsemen riding up over the rise. I asked the people passing me who they were--if they were “khakis” or Boers? “No,” they said; “they are Boers.” “Good!” I cried, but I hurried my people all the same. As soon as we were ready the whips touched the oxen, and off we went at a good trot. After we had driven on some little distance the yoke broke. Then for the first time a good Samaritan passed us. Ada said to him, “Do help us so that we can get the ox yoked, and tell us where the English are.”