There is little doubt that any one who shared in that next day's march will never forget it. As we proceeded across the illimitable plain a strong head-wind began to blow, increasing in strength as the day wore on. De Wet had fired all the grass ahead of us, with the result that the air was laden with millions and millions of particles of minute ashes and sharp cinders. These soon filled eyes, ears, nostrils, throats, and lungs, until breathing became well-nigh impossible, and the agony caused by their penetration into our eyes almost intolerable. But woe to him who endeavoured to alleviate his distress by wiping his eyes with grimy hands. Such action merely had the effect of 'rubbing it in,' and so accentuating the misery and discomfort. The men very soon began to fall out in ever-increasing numbers. On one occasion Captain Nelson, R.M.L.I., was seen straggling off right away from the column. Lieutenant Bradford went after him and found that he was temporarily quite blind. At last, after hours of torment, we reached a pass in the Gatsrand, on the far side of which we halted, as night fell. A big grass fire almost immediately broke out, and as the grass was long and thick, and a strong wind still blew to fan it, things looked very ugly. The flames swept right through the camp, but luckily the tents were not up. But what would happen when they reached the guns and ammunition? What, indeed, might have happened, but for the gallantry of the gunners and naval detachment, it is hard to say. As it was the ammunition-waggons caught fire and were sufficiently charred to demonstrate the closeness of the danger. But, as ever, 'the handy-man' was to the fore, and with promptitude and courage, that could not have been excelled, managed to extinguish the flames. And now for a wash--what, no water! No water, which, hungry and exhausted as they were, every one wanted even more than food. But, alas! it was too true, and after contenting ourselves with some liquid mud, flavoured with charcoal, called coffee, and some few mouthfuls of tough old trek-ox, liberally peppered with burnt grass, we only waited to hear that reveille was to be at 1.30 a.m. before sinking down to snatch what rest was possible. This delightful spot rejoiced in the refreshing name of Orange Grove.