I told them that they could not go on any longer driving the oxen like that. We should have to give in. But still the brave Jacobus kept on, and said, “No, aunt, your oxen are getting on very well. Don’t you worry about them.” I could not understand myself how it was that my waggons were not taken. There was not one commando there to keep the “khakis” back. I told myself that when the Lord is working His will, then the greatest wonders can happen. We came up to some steep ground when one of the yokes broke. “Now they will be able to see us well,” I said; for we had to stand still, which was very dangerous. But I kept calm and told myself, “My Redeemer is here, and wherever I may go with Jesus it will always be well.” And I clung fast to the hope that we should come away safely. When we had at last got away from these dangerous heights, it seemed at once as if the fighting were quieting down. However, we could not tell whether they might not fall upon us from in front, as in that direction lay a woody and uneven country. Very soon we heard that they had not come any nearer. But still we went on, to get as far away as possible. Then we heard that nearly all the people who had been that night in Schweizer-Renecke had been taken prisoners, and that the very same landdrost who had told me towards sunset that he would be sure to know when the “khakis” were coming had had no time that very night to put on his clothes and escape before they appeared. I thought how sorry I was that I had not followed my own wish; had I done so, we should not have found ourselves in such danger. However, it looked again as if we were going to escape, now that the fighting was slackening. After the Almighty I owed my freedom to brave little Jacobus De la Rey and Louis De la Rey, who also did his best to get us away safely. When the troops were so near that they could have shot at my waggons, so that I wanted to stop, they paid no heed, but continued to drive the oxen on at full speed. I had so many children with me and dreaded so much to see them shot dead before my eyes that at one moment I thought it would be better to give in. Fortunately, it was not necessary; the danger was now over. It was very late before we could make a halt. I had nothing ready in the waggons to give the children to eat; but none of them gave me any trouble, not even my little Janne, who was only six years old. It was so clever of him to understand that when there was nothing to give him he would have to wait. After a short rest we had to go on again. At three o’clock in the afternoon we stopped. We had no wood, and my boy, who was thoroughly dead beat, did not know how he was going to make a fire. However, by the time the evening had come our food was ready. Now I had no more cows, so that we had to do without the precious milk. If my little Janne could get nothing else, he used always to be contented with milk.