Brenda seemed disturbed at this view of things. She could not believe that a soldier of General Buller's experience could be capable of so grave an error of judgment. And yet, as Wilfred put it, this advance did seem to be of an unduly hazardous nature. But there again, Wilfred was always so pessimistic. He was not the man to look at anything hopefully when he could do the opposite. The men themselves were all full of confidence, she knew, and were looking forward to relieving their gallant comrades in Ladysmith within a very short time now. Wilfred must be wrong, she argued; it was more than likely that the General had some information up his sleeve that no one knew anything about. At all events, she was not going to look on the black side of things. Thus she comforted herself somewhat. Harold returned from his patrolling, but only for a short while. Again and again he was sent out, sometimes into the enemy's country, and he was in the saddle from morning till night. Brenda saw but little of him, and had to put up with his continued absence as best she could. She had, as it happened, plenty of work to distract her. She was an excellent nurse, and did good service in the hospital, not sparing herself in any way. Indeed, so constantly was she employed, that the doctor insisted upon her taking a sufficient amount of exercise, and strongly advised her to ride. This commended itself to her, for she rode well and was never happier than when in the saddle. She managed to obtain a habit from a colonial lady who was also in the camp. Her husband managed to procure for her a capital little animal--one of those active little ponies used by the Boers. And so she came to make frequent excursions into the surrounding country. "You must keep on this side of the river, Mrs. Burton," said the doctor. "As long as you do that you are quite safe, even beyond the camp lines. But don't cross the Tugela. Directly you do that you run risks. I can't afford to lose my best nurse, you know." Brenda looked at the sullen waters of the stream rolling through the melancholy veldt, and laughed. "I should be a clever woman to cross that river, doctor, even if I wanted to. You may depend upon my taking every care of myself. I shall keep on the right side from sheer inability to get on the wrong one." But it was not often that Brenda was allowed to ride alone. She was not the sort of woman to have to seek a cavalier. But as the time drew near when the General intended to make his move, his juniors found they had very little leisure, and she had perforce to ride alone. But even so she had no fear, though her father worried a good deal about her. But as she always returned safely, even he grew gradually accustomed to see her go off unattended.