As they drew near the town they met many of the sick and wounded who had hobbled out, in their great joy, to receive the relievers, and who tried to wave their caps and say Hurrah! with the rest--a piteous sight of wan faces and poor shrunk shanks! And the men of the Relief Column--so brown and well they looked--were feeling in their pockets for tobacco to distribute round, for the spectacle they saw of white-faced, feeble-kneed invalids smote them to the heart. They had never realized until at this moment all that the defenders of Ladysmith had suffered for England. They rode in slowly, two by two, Dundonald and Gough and Mackenzie of Natal at the head of the column. All through the main street they rode, nodding to a friend here and a friend there, for the Imperial Light Horse had many friends in Ladysmith. There were wild cheers half choked by emotion, and the little ones were hoisted on shoulder to be able to see the strong men who had come to save them. Then in the twilight came Sir George White and his staff to welcome the rescue party. As the leaders shook hands the excitement and joy of relief broke forth again. Men bit their lips as if nothing was happening, but women and children cried and laughed and cried again. All in their heart, many in their voices, were thanking God for this timely deliverance. And then they fell to and cheered Sir George White: just then his patient heroism and kindly grip of power appealed to them. And some who had not wept before cried now when they looked on the old soldier, sitting so erect and proud in his saddle, with all the heavy cloud of care suddenly removed from his brow and the light of joy and gratitude shining through wet eyes. Twice--aye, thrice--he tried to speak, but the tears were in his throat and he could not utter his thoughts. Then the cheers came again, and gave him time to pull himself together. He lifted his bowed head and thanked them for all their loyal help, soldiers and civilians alike, and then finished by one solemn phrase that touched all hearts: “Thank God, we kept the old flag flying!” Why, the very Zulus caught the enthusiasm and leapt high into the air, waving bare arms aloft and shouting the old war-cry of Cetewayo and his savage _impis_. That night there were long stories to be told in the camp of the Relief Column.