Behind the kopjes in Bak River I blew up all my dynamite, just to give the Germans something to think about, and leaving Ford-Smith and the remnant of my gang to follow slowly with the waggon, I set the old nag on the long lonely trail for Upington. For the whole day I rode without seeing a solitary wayfarer, and night surprised me near the Molopo at Toeslan, where I had hoped to sleep; so I lay amongst the thorn-trees by a big fire, roasting and freezing by turns, for the night was bitterly cold, and I rode light without coat or blanket. Next day I met one or two people, but no one had heard of troops for the border, and all I could hope was that, if they had gone by another road, they would not walk into an ambush at the big granite kopje. Much of the journey of eighty-odd miles was through heavy sand and rough, rocky country, and it was nearly midnight of the second night when I crawled into Upington, both myself and the pony dead-beat, for he had eaten nothing but a handful of oats all day, and the two days of hard riding had again loosened my badly glued ribs. I reported to the O.C. of the “S.A.M.R.,” but he had no reinforcements to send, and knew no more of what was to happen on the border than did the poor little “garrison” at Nakob! Meanwhile my sworn statement was wired to Pretoria, where they took a serious view of the matter. And so far, for a season, my prospecting ended, for even my humble little bark, used to floating on lonely seas or in placid backwaters, had been caught in the maelstrom of the War. * * * * * NOTE.--The post at Nakob was never relieved--Maritz and Beyers saw to that--and a full month later the place was attacked by Andries de Wet and 300 Germans with machine-guns, the hut riddled with bullets, Corporal Spencer killed, young Human’s jaw blown away, and the rest of the “garrison” marched as prisoners into German territory. Rietfontein and Obopogorop had to be abandoned, and for a time the Gordonia border was left to the mercy of Andries de Wet and his renegade and German followers, until, a few weeks later, Maritz broke into open rebellion at Cnydas, where amongst other civilians he took my friend Ford-Smith a prisoner, and sent him to a long captivity in German South-West.--F. C. CORNELL. _Printed in Great Britain by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ltd., London and Aylesbury._ TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE 1. Spellings have been standardised only when a dominant version was found in the original. 2. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. 3. Enclosed bold font in =equals=.