The 10th proved more or less a repetition of the preceding days. Starting at 5 a.m., we did not halt till well after dark, the waggons, kits, food, &c., not getting up to us till 10 p.m. Seeing that there was no chance of any other food, some bullocks were commandeered, and the men cooked them in little chunks in their mess-tins over the grass fires. Tired out as they were it was too cold to get any sleep without blankets, and long lines of melancholy soldiers could be seen standing along the edges of the grass fires, against which their figures were outlined in bold silhouette, and from whose scanty flames they endeavoured to get what little warmth they could. Everybody was wet through to the knee, a good many to the waist, while some were soused all over, for in the course of our march we had turned due north, and crossed the Vaal at Lindeque Drift. The river is very broad here, and split up into numerous small streams, in the wading of which many humorous incidents took place, owing to the slippery nature of the rolling stones in the bottom of the river. A rolling stone may not gather much moss, but it is undoubtedly capable of gathering a considerable quantity of slimy weeds, and when concealed by two or three feet of running water it offers about as precarious a footing as it is possible to imagine. [Illustration: The Vaal River, Lindeque Drift.] Winding our way through the low hills on the Transvaal side of the river, we at length emerged on to an enormous plain. The far horizon was bounded by the Gatsrand hills, with which, as with another detached clump of rounded kopjes on our left, known as the Losberg, we were destined ere long to become closely acquainted. As we finally turned in about 11 p.m. we heard reveille was not to sound till 4.30 a.m., but when some subaltern attempted a feeble joke about a 'Europe morning,' his effort met with nothing but silent contempt.