"Good evening. Yes, certainly. Come inside. It's a poor dwelling, but you are welcome. Johnny, take the horses and put them in the stable. Won't you join us at supper?" Our appetites needed no stimulating, and we at once joined the family, who had just been sitting down to table when we arrived. After the meal our horses were saddled and brought to the door. "What do we owe you for the forage?" we asked. It would be an insult under any circumstance to offer to pay a Boer for a meal, "paying guests" being still unknown to our benighted nation. "No, my friends," he said. "I am poor, but I can't take your money. We are all working for our country, and must help each other." "That's true, but you must really allow us to pay." "No, no! A few shillings will make me no richer or poorer." It was only with the greatest difficulty that we managed to leave a few shillings on the table. And this in spite of the fact that he was in the direst poverty. But this is nothing unusual in South Africa, where hospitality is considered a duty and a pleasure. We pushed on until late that night, when we reached Vrede. Here we learnt that the column which Lord Roberts had sent back from Johannesburg had just entered Reitz. The next day we turned our horses' heads towards Bethlehem, seeing a fair amount of game during the day's ride. Darkness found us still travelling onward. A few miles to our right a crimson glare lit up the heavens--a grass fire started by the British column, and an unmistakable danger-signal for us. We were now very close to the enemy, and might expect to meet a patrol at any moment. Whilst riding along in the dense gloom we heard loud voices a few hundred yards ahead of us. Turning out of the road, we rode on the grass so as to make no noise, and carefully approached. Upon getting nearer we found it was some natives driving cattle into a kraal. Near by was a farmhouse, and thither we went. Only the womenfolk were at home. We quickly reassured them--for every stranger was taken for an Englishman--and were asked to stay for the night. Presently the farmer himself arrived--he had been out watching the enemy. "They will pass here to-morrow," he said, "then I shall go on that hill yonder and knock over a few of them. I had a fine chance to shoot to-day, but did not want to put them on their guard." "But don't you think it would be better to join a commando and help in making an organised resistance? You may kill a few of the enemy by hanging about in twos and threes, but what difference will that make in the end?" "You mean us to act like the dervishes at Omdurman? I'm afraid you don't understand the affair, my son. We do belong to a commando, as a matter of fact, but we are scouts entrusted with the duty of keeping in constant touch with the enemy. If in the execution of this duty we see an opportunity to shoot a few of the enemy, are we to hold our hand because we happen to be only two or three?"