Lieutenant Lygon's body was borne back on the following morning, and was buried near the small white kraal a hundred yards to the east of the railway bridge. The funeral, which took place at sunset on Saturday, was most impressive, the entire battalion attending the voluntary parade and lining the path between the camp and the grave. Little comment is needed. Clearly the virtue that runs to a fault has here been to blame. The same unquestioning pluck that impels an officer in leading his men on the field of battle prompted this careless enterprise, with the miserable result we have recorded. We have lost--and the loss is the loss of the whole force--one of the best and most popular of our younger officers, and of the other casualties one at least may prove more serious than was anticipated; but at least it is a compensation to remember that, however unfortunate the issue, the quiet pluck and discipline of the army have been once more tried and not found wanting. * * * * * DON'T. _Advice to Looters._ BY H. A. GWYNNE. Don't call on the Provost Marshal with a couple of live chickens on your saddle bow. Don't attempt to carry off a grand piano on an ammunition waggon; it might be noticed. Don't cook sheep's kidneys ostentatiously in camp; you may be asked where you found the sheep. Don't load your horse with flannel petticoats when carrying a message to a general; flannel petticoats are not a part of military equipment. Don't swagger about camp with an air of repletion when the force is subsisting on quarter rations. Don't try to stuff a pillow into your helmet; it only spoils your appearance and gives the show away. Don't "pick up" anything with the broad arrow on it. Don't steal a horse from the Club railings when its owner is having a whisky and soda; it is distinctly dangerous. Don't "steal" a horse at all, but let it "wander into your lines." Don't drive a flock of sheep across the pond of the Headquarter Staff; they might delay the Commander-in-Chief and make him angry. Don't wear a bunch of false hair in your hat; it was never served out to you. Don't carry ladies' silk stockings in your wallets; they won't fit you. Don't shout out in camp, "Who's stolen my silk umbrella?" People might ask you where you got it from. Don't avoid ostentatiously the Provost Marshal as he rides along; greet him kindly and openly and perhaps he will not suspect you. * * * * * SMALL AMMUNITION. At Colesberg, in one of the numerous cavalry fights, an old Boer was held at mercy by a lancer who had his lance ready to strike. "Moe nie! Moe nie!" cried the old man, which, being translated, means "Don't, don't!" The lancer, however, didn't understand Dutch, and replied, "I don't want your money, I want your life," but the renewed appeal was too piteous, and the old man was taken prisoner. CHAPTER XII "VIVE LA COMPAGNIE"