Thursday, September 27th. We got us up at 3.30. On going to saddle up I found that my horse was gone. However, after a careful search, I found him, though he had changed colour and size. When in the Yeomanry, do as the Yeomen do. So having got a mount I was soon on parade. We then ascended a big kopje and were placed at various observation posts till such time as the convoy should move off. On the top of this kopje were numerous tree-locusts, these are far more swagger in appearance than their khaki-clad brethren, being green and yellow, with a crimson and purple lining to their wings; but their whole appearance is so artificial, that my first impression on seeing one was that it had flown out of a Liberty Shop. From the various uncomplimentary remarks one hears passed on the locust, I imagine the name must be derived from the expression "low cuss." At 3.30 the tail of the beastly but necessary convoy had succeeded in negotiating the usual non-progressive drift, and we left our kopje to form its rear guard. My horse and I went a lovely howler soon after starting--my first spill. I got up feeling all the better for the experience, and soon had another. In this my rifle got broken. Friday, September 28th. We arrived at Olifant's Nek with the convoy at 3.30 a.m. a bit tired, found lukewarmed-up tea, bully and biscuits awaiting us, and then turned in, and just and unjust slumbered soundly till a late _reveille_, 6 o'clock, bundled us out to feed our horses. My latest acquisition I found had vamoosed or been vamoosed. In searching for it, I found my old one. Then, having foraged around at our waggon and secured a Lee-Metford, I was once again fully equipped. At about 10, we advanced through the bush veldt as far as our present camping ground, which is called Doornlaagte, I believe. Saturday, September 29th. As we are resting here to-day I will continue my diary-like letter. (_Resumed._) My fell intentions of writing this morning were knocked on the head, as we had to go out on a patrol. Our latest _roles_ being that of resurrectionists, or grave desecrators. The reason was that certain tombs had been regarded with grave suspicion (I beg your pardon) our "intelligence" people imagining them to contain buried arms, ammunition, or treasure. However, on our arrival at the spot, a close inspection made it evident that they were _bona-fide_ affairs, not Mauser-leums, and by no means new as reported, so we left the rude forefathers of the hamlet undisturbed. Sunday, September 30th. We have just marched back from Doornlaagte through Olifant's Nek, and are camped here, a mile beyond. To-day is a regular Sunday-at-Home day. It has been quite a record day, especially for a Sabbath, for we have not heard a single Mauser go off.