_S. O._ "Now, look here. You may think that you're a useful feller and doing a lot of good. But let me tell you that you are going over the same ground that better men than you have already passed (_pointing to the winkel-monger_). I have seen, at least, a round dozen of Intelligence officers examining that man. Well, what the deuce is he worth to you after that, either as a framer of fact or flinger of fiction? Try and be useful. We have got to feed to-night. Now, we can't go round to the messes and cadge for food. Nor shall we see our mess-cart. (_The Intelligence officer nodded assent._) Then why do you detain our only chance? Here, Mr Squarehead (_taking the winkel-monger by the ear_), come and provide food. I have got two fowls and some potatoes, and you and the _fraus_ between you have got to make a mess of pottage, and be right quick about it, or you will never see another sun rise." There were protestations of inability on the part of the forced labourers. But the Supply officer soon overcame all these, and in an hour the staff of the New Cavalry Brigade were able after a full meal to curl up for the night on the high-scented floor of the _winkel_. * * * * * An orderly from the general almost cannoned into the brigadier as he stood shaving by the light of a candle. There was a brusque rejoinder, and the man handed in a note. The brigadier read the slip of paper handed to him while he stropped his razor. The orderly who had brought the message stood stiffly to attention until the brigadier finished his apology for a toilet. Having washed and struggled into his tunic, the officer commanding the Cavalry Brigade was in a position to give his undivided attention to his correspondence. He strode over to the four packing-cases, which in their disguise as tables represented the brigade mess, and called for his Intelligence and acting staff officer. That officer's toilet took even less time than that of his chief, for he just rolled out from between two blankets, and appeared ready made, as it were, for the day's wear and tear. _Brigadier._ "Here, you lazy scoundrel, read that" (_and he passed the slip of paper over to his subordinate._) _I. O._ "These are orders, sir." _B._ "It was not necessary to send for you to discover that. But how does it affect the orders you issued last night?" _I. O._ "It cancels them. Instead of taking us north-east, it will take us due west toward the Prieska Road as soon as we strike Beer Vlei."