And I had hardly got into the friendly _melk-bosch_ the other side of that awful bare hundred yards of sand at the base of the hill, when I saw them moving among the rocks at the top, where I had just left, and the sunshine glinting on rifle-barrels. I got back to the police camp as soon as I could, and told the police what I had seen, which by no means lessened their anxiety. They knew already that, failing the arrival of a strong force, they were simply like rats in a trap, and this violation of British territory, this seizing and strengthening of what was naturally the strongest position near Nakob, boded ill for the forlorn little outpost of five men. Moreover, should a force be on its way from either Upington or Kakamas, it would be in sight of this high kopje and the Germans for hours before we knew anything about it, and might very possibly choose the old route, which led within a few hundred yards of the schanzes, and would thus walk right into an ambuscade. None of the troopers could be spared to take a message, so it was decided, as soon as I could get my waggon well on the road, I should ride on to Upington and take the news myself. The garrison (?) of five slept away from the post, leaving it after dark and bivouacking in the hills. On Sunday, there being still no sign of a relief force and no news, I loaded my waggon and struck camp, making up my mind to ride before daybreak next day, so that the Germans should not see that a messenger had left the camp. That night there was an alarm amongst the Bastards and Hottentots at the police camp, all of them fleeing to the hills, for a spy who had been in the camp had warned them an attack was imminent. The troopers lay on their arms at my waggon all night, but no attack came; though in the morning the tell-tale sand showed where a patrol of the enemy had stood awaiting the return of their spy within fifty yards of our post, and by the spoors one of them had stood listening at the window. Our poor young troopers were in a most unenviable position. Their stores were exhausted, the waggon with their monthly supplies was many days overdue and might probably never arrive at all, they had no news or means of communication, they knew they were at the mercy of the Germans whenever they cared to attack, and yet they were bound to stick to their post. I left them a few spare stores I had, and in return they gave me the last few pounds of oats they had for my horse; there would be no time to look for food along the road. And so we bade them good-bye, and lumbered along with the heavy waggon till the hills hid us from the watchful eyes of the Germans on that big granite kopje in British territory, which should have been held by British troops as soon as possible after war was declared.