The air began to fill with rumours of murder and pillage, the veldt again resounded with the hoof-beats of fighting commandos. We had the affairs at Reddersburg, Wepener, Karree Siding, Sanna's Post. We found that we were brushing our coatsleeves against those of active enemies in Bloemfontein--men who were apprising the enemy of our army movements and plans, who were even said to be slipping out at night, armed sometimes with messages and sometimes with Mausers. Thus the Boer cunning over-reached itself. It was the biggest hoax, the climax of the long course of hoaxing. It was the first time it had been practised upon Lord Roberts, but I also believe it was the last time as well. This was the meaning of the notices that now began to appear in different forms in THE FRIEND: that the Army was to be fooled no longer by mere lies and Iscariot handshakings. This was the purport of Lieutenant Burnett-Hitchcock's command that we should all carry passes; of Town Clerk Koller's order for all the Free Staters to give an account of their horses with proofs of ownership; of General Kelly's command that all troops "when out in positions" (around the town and elsewhere) "should invariably entrench themselves ... being careful that their flanks are secure"; of Lord Roberts's warning that our "friends" and others were to be held responsible in their persons and property for all wanton destruction of or damage to public or private property, which meant railway-wrecking principally. The Army at last was tired of being fooled. The editorial of the day was conceived in the same spirit of resistance to a farther continuance of the experiences of the Army in the past. It was headed "British Leniency," and was, I am almost certain, written by Mr. Gwynne under "inspiration."