Meanwhile my friend Ford-Smith wandered round with a Remington rifle, in the gullies along our side of the border, practising at korhaan and dassies, and wishing they were Germans. He borrowed military buttons from the police, and put them on his shirt, to save himself from being shot as a _franctireur_ should it come to a scrap; but--luckily for us--he had no chance of an outlet for his martial ardour, except one night when my old horse strayed back into the camp from somewhere over the German side at dead of night, and narrowly escaped annihilation at his hands. Those nights were extremely jumpy, for, as I have explained, we were within a stone’s throw of enemy territory, an attack on the police camp was believed to be imminent, and that we should have shared in the trouble was beyond question. However, each morning we were able to flash “All’s Well” with a mirror to each other, for the Germans still held their hand. Of course all communication between the two territories had ceased from the time that the outbreak of war was notified, but news still filtered through by means of natives, and spies were constantly coming amongst the Bastard and Hottentot hangers-on of the police post. They could not be caught, but their constant inquiry was as to when the “troops” would arrive, though on this point they could have got scant information, for we were as ignorant and anxious as themselves! From a few legitimate stragglers who succeeded in evading the German police and getting over, we heard of the movements of troops, and it seemed fairly certain that the border police had been withdrawn from German Nakob, and that an officer, with twenty-five men and a machine-gun, had taken their place. The constant rumours of an impending attack made it impossible to keep the “boys” at their work, and as no news came of reinforcements, I had at length no alternative but to abandon the work and clear out. [Illustration: GRANITE MONOLITH AT “LANGKLEP.” Afterwards the scene of a fight with Maritz.] [Illustration: WATER-PITS IN THE DRY MOLOPO AT NAKOB. Where Maritz broke into rebellion.]