“‘I’m _so_ glad you agree with me,’ he says. ‘My command here I regard as a training depot, and you, if I may say so, have been one of my most efficient instructors. I mature my men slowly but thoroughly. First I put ’em in a town which is liable to be attacked by night, where they can attend riding-school in the day. Then I use ’em with a convoy, and last I put ’em into a column. It takes time,’ he says, ‘but I flatter myself that any men who have worked under me are at least grounded in the rudiments of their profession. Adrian,’ he says, ‘was there anything wrong with the men who upset Van Bester’s applecart last month when he was trying to cross the line to join Piper with those horses he’d stole from Gabbitas?’ “‘No, Generaal,’ says Van Zyl. ‘Your men got the horses back and eleven dead; and Van Besters, he ran to Delarey in his shirt. They was very good, those men. They shoot hard.’ “_‘So_ pleased to hear you say so. I laid ’em down at the beginning of this century—a 1900 vintage. _You_ remember ’em, Mankeltow?’ he says. ‘The Central Middlesex Buncho Busters—clerks and floorwalkers mostly,’ and he wiped his moustache. ‘It was just the same with the Liverpool Buckjumpers, but they were stevedores. Let’s see—they were a last-century draft, weren’t they? They did well after nine months. _You_ know ’em, Van Zyl? You didn’t get much change out of ’em at Pootfontein?’ “‘No,’ says Van Zyl. ‘At Pootfontein I lost my son Andries.’ “‘I beg your pardon, Commandant,’ says the General; and the rest of the crowd sort of cooed over Adrian. “‘Excoose,’ says Adrian. ‘It was all right. They were good men those, but it is just what I say. Some are so dam good we want to hands-up, and some are so dam bad, we say, “Take the Vierkleur into Cape Town.” It is not upright of you, Generaal. It is not upright of you at all. I do not think you ever wish this war to finish.’ “‘It’s a first-class dress-parade for Armageddon,’ says the General. ‘With luck, we ought to run half a million men through the mill. Why, we might even be able to give our Native Army a look in. Oh, not here, of course, Adrian, but down in the Colony—say a camp-of-exercise at Worcester. You mustn’t be prejudiced, Adrian. I’ve commanded a district in India, and I give you my word the native troops are splendid men.’ “‘Oh, I should not mind them at Worcester,’ says Adrian. ‘I would sell you forage for them at Worcester—yes, and Paarl and Stellenbosch; but Almighty!’ he says, ‘must I stay with Cronje till you have taught half a million of these stupid boys to ride? I shall be an old man.’