From that direction presently came a young Boer well mounted but unarmed. His wary movements at first seemed to indicate that he had no desire to be seen by our troops, but our host explained that the road took many turns and twists which might puzzle a stranger. The horseman was evidently not well pleased to find Englishmen at the farm, but this we, being somewhat vain, attributed to jealousy, seeing that the youth and our host’s comely daughter were exchanging glances in which there might have been a world of other meaning, though we suspected it not. We knew instinctively that they were not quite strangers, but there were no signs of friendly recognition in our presence. After a brief conversation, carried on between the young man and the farmer aside, though neither of us could have understood the taal they talked, our host came forward and explained that his neighbour was simply riding from one farm to another, where the family had all surrendered and obtained their permits to live in peace. There was nothing to be done then except shake hands and part, but the next day my Basuto servant, who, having lived in Johannesburg, had a wholesome dread of Boer sjamboks, gave me a full interpretation of what he had overheard the young man say in that neighbourly talk with our burgher friend. The burden of it was that this guileless youth, Ferreira by name, had been sent by Christian De Wet to let everybody know why the Free State commandos were retiring with Botha’s Transvaalers instead of defending their own homesteads. It was only to lure the English on to destruction, and Christian De Wet promised that he would slip back again in a day or two to Rodewal and play Old Harry with the invaders. Up to the time of joining General French’s force in the afternoon of May 28 I had regarded this as a vain boast. A closer study of Boer tactics, however, was enough to show what they were playing for, and I watched with some apprehension our Cavalry moving westward in vain attempts to outflank the mobile Boers, who were galloping from kopje to kopje on one side of a vast dam fringed by treacherous mires which French’s squadrons could not cross. Ian Hamilton meanwhile conformed to this movement without getting touch of the enemy or drawing near to their stronghold, which was obviously on the frowning crest of Klipriviersberg (shortened by the Boers colloquially to Riviersberg).