This time they were right in the village, where all was in disorder. I felt all the worse because I had remained there against my own instinct. My people hastened to yoke the oxen. Everything was lying on the ground, but they packed it all into the waggons very quickly. We had to see what was to be done. I asked, “Is the hen-coop open?” There were still a few chickens out then. I said still, “Get the chickens into it;” but the fighting was coming so near that we had to hurry on. Then there was such a crowd of men and beasts that it grew very difficult to make one’s way through and get away. Commandant Erasmus came up and said, “Don’t you run away; it is only wedding-guests who are firing like that; those are no ‘khakis.’” I drew up and said, “Go and get my chickens.” The boy went back and then came the news that of course they were “khakis.” Then our flight was doubly hasty. The fighting now was much nearer us. I thought, “I shall fly to the last.” Then I had more misfortunes. There were the chickens out of the coop again. I said, “Let us wait for one moment and get the fowls in first, and let the boy come up with the cows; for if I can get no milk I shall be very unhappy.” The animals were all driven forward; the oxen were urged on and we got on at a brisk pace. The ground was vibrating from the firing of the “khakis.” The way was full of sand and rocks. It was very rough travelling. I kept wondering every moment where the boy could be with the cows; but it was now a time when each one had to consider his own safety, without troubling to look after me. I was waiting for the moment to come when I should be taken prisoner. Fortunately, young Jacobus De la Rey, son of Pieter, caught sight of my waggon and came up. He took the whip and began driving the oxen onwards while he rode on his horse alongside. He came out on the veldt with my waggon, and, as he knew the neighbourhood very well, he said, “Aunt, I shall do what I can to get you out safely.” “Very well,” I said, “but you must not go and get yourself taken for my sake. If the English come up with us, then fly away, I shall not come to any harm. If they must catch me--well, then, let them do so.” The mountains were echoing back the sound of their firing. I said, “There is one comfort, I cannot see any cannon; if they were to begin to fire them at me I should have to give in then.” We went on as hard as we could. Young Kobus De la Rey said, “They are coming over the Rand.” “Then we are in their hands,” I answered. Then my boy came up with us and told me that the “khakis” had taken my cows. They had so fired upon him that he had taken to his heels and left the cows behind. That was bad news; I did not want to listen to it, although we too were in great danger, and at any moment they might come and take me prisoner also. [Illustration: “Our people”.]