Major Lee, who was in command of the New Zealanders at Arundel, was reported to be a splendid fellow--not the typical dashing officer by any means, but what was described as a regular paterfamilias of somewhat aldermanic proportions. He was hale, hearty, and beaming, and withal a man of coolness and courage. The qualities possessed by this officer were said to be shared by most of his men, who, though of the rough and ready stamp, were true chips of the old British block. Mr. Gifford Hall was most enthusiastic about Colonials all and sundry, and, knowing their excellence and Great Britain's needs, delivered himself of words of wisdom which are worthy of repetition:-- "Ex-frontier cavalryman myself, with further experience as cowboy in both the United States and North-west Canada, and also as stockrider in Australia, I have never for a moment doubted that in the raising of an irregular Anglo-Boer force lay the solution of England's problem, 'How to successfully cope with the enemy.' Sans standard of physique, sans much orthodox training, sans everything but virility, inherent horsemanship, inherent wild-land craft, mounted on his own pony--bronco of Canada or brumbie of Australia--the Canadian ranche hand, the Australian stockrider, shearer, station rouseabout, or the 'cull' of all lands Anglicised might easily become the quintessence of a useful and operative force against a semi-guerilla enemy. A pair of cord breeches, a couple of shirts, his big hat, and a cartridge-filled belt, Winchester carbine, a pony of the sort that can be run to a white sweat, and staggering, tremble, and then be kicked out to nuzzle for grass or die--that's what your man wants. The pants and shirts will be better than he has worn for years; the gun he has 'shot straight' with ever since he first handled his 'daddy's' muzzle-loader; and the 'hoss,' why each is of the other, horse and man, each apart, a thing inept. Orthodoxy against the Boers in military operations doesn't wash. Aldershot-cum-Sandhurst-cum-Soudan-cum-Further-India and War-Office tactics fall flat. The Boer is here, there, and everywhere, not to be followed by 'crushing forces'--only to be checked and turned and tracked and harried and hustled by a brother Boer. There is scarce a Canadian ranche hand but owns a pony of bronco breed, scarce an Australian station hand of any decent calibre but owns or can procure a tough and serviceable semi-'brumbie' mount. And will these men volunteer? Yes, plenty of them, and those that won't can't. Surely Empire saved or gained is worth their worth to the Motherland they fight for. Let her hire them. Transportation and time? The Boer war is not over yet, and England's pocket is deep. To-day she fights for her life, for her honour, and win she must. Arm them and saddle