The pipe I had chosen to test was peculiarly situated, on the top of the plateau and right upon the extreme edge of British territory; so close indeed to German soil that the international beacon marking the actual twentieth degree of east longitude (the boundary-line) stood within a few yards of the well-defined western wall of the pipe, and in full view of the shafts we were sinking. From the edge of the escarpment, a few hundred yards from this beacon, a magnificent view could be obtained of both British and German territory, south-east, south, and south-west, the irregular peaks that penned the lonely Orange River being visible along the whole of the horizon in that direction. Over the whole vast space, one tiny habitation alone was visible, the little police post at Nakob, at the foot of the escarpment, and barely two miles away. From this beacon post the experienced observer could pick up several of the other signposts dotted here and there at irregular intervals amongst wild bush and rock along the twentieth degree, the actual boundary, which was, however, pathless and difficult to follow. The corresponding German police post, also usually known as Nakob, was not built opposite our own little post, but near a very prominent granite hill some two miles south of it, where there was water on the German side, and in the vicinity of which our own post at one time stood. (These minute and tedious particulars as to the position of the two posts are necessary to enable the reader to follow what happened at this spot a few months later, at the outbreak of war.) We saw little of the German police, who were few, and on excellent terms with our own men along the border, and whose lot, compared with that of our men, was a fairly easy one. For they were but eighteen miles from their base at Ukamas, where a couple of hundred troops were stationed, and from whence there was telephonic and telegraphic communication all over German territory. There was a doctor there, a “hotel” and store, and good roads led to it; in short, compared to our own side of the border, a measure of civilisation was within easy reach. These German mounted police belonged to a _corps d’élite_, each trooper having been a senior non-commissioned officer in the Imperial German Army, and they were for the most part well-educated men, and especially expert in cartography. Part of their duties lay in preparing exhaustive maps of the localities in which they were stationed, and I have been shown, by them, maps of our own side of the border, showing minute and accurate detail utterly wanting on our own charts.