We left again at 8 A.M. the following day, and passed through very fair scenery between that place and the next station, Waterval Boven. High overhanging kopjes on one side, along the bases of which the line ran, with a deep sort of cañon between, the Crocodile River flowing along its bottom, and a large square turret-like rock looking commandingly from the other. In one place the train ran quite close to the ‘cliff,’ as in the Darjiling Himalayan Railway in India, and almost under a huge mass of overhanging rocks. There are deep fissures in these rocks in many places, and they look as if they might get loosened and overwhelm us at any moment. We were told that in the rains sentries are posted at this place night and day to give timely warning should there be any signs of the rocks shifting. The incline, too, is very steep here, and only a few trucks at a time can be taken up. In our case eleven trucks were sent up at first, two engines being put on, one in front and the other behind. To prevent slipping, the hindermost engine had the usual cog-wheel arrangement working on a centre rail. Shortly after leaving Waterval Onder you get into a tunnel about a hundred yards long, I think. It is absolutely unventilated, so it can be imagined that the smoke from the engines, which, seated as we were in open trucks, simply poured down our throats and up our noses, very nearly suffocated us. We stayed at Waterval Boven till 5 P.M., and then went on to Machadodorp, where we found the rest of the regiment, which was encamped there, under Captain Beresford. They had marched to this place from Belfast, where Lord Roberts inspected them. Here we were greatly undeceived. Instead of going on down country for home, as we expected, we received orders to equip, and furthermore to leave the old brigade we were so fond of under General Mahon, and join General French’s column in General Dickson’s brigade. The men of Lumsden’s Horse arrived in the midst of a very heavy hailstorm. Like all true soldiers, they were ready to make a jest of discomfort, and seeing the company commander, whose name happened to be Jim, as he crawled under the shelter of his _tente d’abri_, they struck up the then popular music-hall chorus: O lucky Jim, How I envy him! Colonel Lumsden was at this time speculating on the chances that his corps might soon be ordered home, and in a letter to Sir Patrick Playfair, written while still in hospital, he says: