Next day commenced our memorable pursuit. De Wet and his merry men had slipped away over the ford bearing his own name as neatly as a cherry-stone from between finger and thumb, and, with their heads turned north, were to give us, and many another converging column like us, the hunt of our lives. The regiment started at 11.30 and only halted at dusk, some three miles from a range of hills on which rumour said the Boers were going to stand and fight it out to the bitter end, even if the whole British Army came against them. 'B' and 'G' companies did not get in until 9 p.m., as, in addition to having an extra five miles to march, they had some trouble with their waggons. We marched all day on the 8th in an easterly direction along the left or southern bank of the Vaal River--a long, tiring, uneventful trek. Expecting momentarily to see our prey delivered over to us, our spirits sank lower and lower as the day dragged on with no sign of any Boers. There was the usual aggravating little drift to be negotiated at 6 p.m. only half a mile short of our camping-ground for the night, but eventually we got all the waggons over, and men and officers obtained something to eat. This proved one of the coldest nights of the winter, and there was ice instead of water in most of the water-bottles next morning when reveille went at 3.30 a.m. Starting at 5 a.m. we again went steadily on till 6 p.m., making well over thirteen hours without food. We skirted round the south of Parys, a name which appealed strongly to a good many of us, and suddenly heard the welcome sound of heavy firing not very far ahead. The column halted, and word soon came that this time our pains were really to be rewarded; the Boers were only six miles ahead, and Lord Methuen was engaged with their rearguard. All signs of hunger and fatigue at once disappeared, the regiment started trekking off once more, instinctively 'stepping out' as they went. The guns still thundered invitingly just ahead, and as we topped each fresh horizon or rounded the slope of the next kopje we all expected to see our prey close in front. But it was not to be. As the afternoon wore on the sound of the guns died away, until at last we came to a halt at dusk in a sort of amphitheatre among the low hills. Too tired to want much food, the men sank down with the delightful nightcap that reveille might again be expected at 3.30 a.m.