No one who was not there can form any idea of the extent to which this looting or commandeering of horses was then being practised. They were stolen not only from in front of the Club--the busiest spot in the heart of the town--but from before the headquarters of Lord Roberts, and from in front of the hotels. Men were desperate; so many were without horses. Sicknesses, slaughter, and overwork had left us with less than half the animals we needed. At about this time an American correspondent who was never guilty of taking even an abandoned Boer horse, but who had purchased a fine animal of a negro on the veldt for five shillings, became very nervous over his purchase. He went to the stable and with the help of his servant clipped the animal close, so that it no longer resembled the long-haired beast he had bought. Then he went out into the street and met a Boer, who accused him of having taken his horse and who exactly described the animal in question. The Boer said he would report the case to Major Poore, the Provost-Marshal. The now frightened correspondent came to my room with his burden of sorrows, and stated his case to the company of officers, correspondents, and despatch-riders then present. "The Boer's name is Voorboom," he said, "and he is in earnest. I suppose I shall be sent home in disgrace." At the mention of the name three men spoke up saying that of all the rascals in need of a hanging this Voorboom was the sorriest. One had seen Boer combatants in Voorboom's house, another had seen Voorboom's brother trundling into a clump of bushes an English carriage which he had stolen; a third had met Voorboom and his negroes riding far and wide gathering up loose horses--English or Boer--which he was undoubtedly now bringing to town to sell to the Army. "Give him an hour in which to leave town or go to jail at Simon's Bay," said a Colonel, ending the incident.