War with England--Siege of Belfast--Our boyish impi attacks the British--Ghosts defeat us--Jafta's friendship--English troopers do the "sporting thing"--Umzulek still planning deviltry--Death of Klaas, our jockey--Father sends me away to get an education. As soon as we reached Rietvlei my father and Tuys closeted themselves in his office. Mother told me that there was trouble between the British and Boers and that my father had received certain orders from Oom Paul Kruger. None of our little army had left Rietvlei when Tuys came out of the house and summoned its leaders. "You are all to go to your homes," he said, "and there wait for orders. There is serious trouble with the English and Oom Paul commands that all stand ready for whatever may come. God grant that this is not war." There seemed to be a divided sentiment about this. Some of the leaders, particularly the younger ones, did not appear to dislike the thought of war, but the old men drew long faces and looked very grave. However, they all mounted and before long the last had left. I did not realize then that I would never see them all again. The shadow of war was over the land and many of our troop were later killed. A short time after our return from Swaziland word reached my father from President Kruger that he was to visit the leading Boers of our district and get their opinion regarding the suggested war with England. War was practically inevitable at that time and my father found the sentiment almost overwhelmingly in favor of it. He counselled against fighting England, because he knew of the unlimited resources of the empire and how impossible it would be for us to win. Knowing my father's astuteness, the old Boers listened to him and were almost won over to peace, but just then word came that war had been declared. Immediately the whole country blazed up. Every farm and settlement sent its men, all mounted and armed with the best Mausers and hunting rifles, and in a trice the Transvaal and Orange Free State were on the war-path. It was our misfortune that the British broke into our part of the Transvaal first. When we heard they were coming, we took everything of value and moved to Belfast, which had been fortified and where we were prepared to stand a siege. I shall never forget the excitement of those days. My mother was in delicate condition and the whole thing was a terrible hardship for her. For me, and for the rest of us boys, it was a great and glorious lark! The air was filled with stories of battles, and before long streams of wounded men were sent from our field forces to the improvised hospitals in Belfast. We boys used to watch these caravans with intense interest and would run errands for the wounded and bring them presents. These farmer-soldiers were our heroes, and we were proud of the saying, "For each Boer, five Englishmen," this being the ratio our fighters claimed was about right.