The immense concessions given by the Government are not cultivated, for the Boer has a rooted dislike to work; his black servants grow the necessary mealies, and keep his numerous flocks. As his wants are very primitive, this suffices him. To procure sugar, coffee, and other necessaries, he goes to town and sells two or three oxen.
The rifle and cartridges furnished by the State in time of war become the Burgher's property.
On the march in war-time this system of halting the oxen because they are hot, and the men because they want to drink coffee at every farm, is neither very rapid nor very practical. We do not arrive at Boshof till the fifth day. This is the spot fated to be the grave of our venerated leader.
Boshof, in contrast to its surroundings, is a gay little oasis, traversed by a cool stream. It boasts green trees and pretty villas. Two ambulances are installed here, but they shelter only two or three wounded as yet.
At the end of the village is a pool, which delights us vastly. We spend the afternoon in it, after lunching with the field-cornet.
The town is _en fête_, as at Brandfort, to receive us, or rather--away with illusion!--to receive _Long Tom_.
We start again in the night, and reach Riverton Road. We are now on English territory, in Cape Colony.
Towards noon, M. Léon comes to meet the cannon, the arrival of which has been anxiously expected for the last two days.
We are only an hour from the camp, which we reach at a gallop. There, at Waterworks--the reservoir that supplies Kimberley--we find Colonel de Villebois-Mareuil.
Need I describe that frank and energetic face, with its searching blue eyes, and its benevolent smile, sometimes a little ironical, always subtle; the clear voice; the concise manner of speech, brief without being brusque? Even at that stage a look of sadness had stamped itself upon his face; he saw that the men for whom he was to lay down his life would not follow the counsels dictated by his profound knowledge and unquenchable devotion.
We had been expected for two days, and twice the Colonel had had good luncheons prepared. Then, giving us up, he had ordered nothing, and we took his kitchen by surprise.
We find with him Baron de Sternberg, that charming Viennese, whose inexhaustible good spirits are famous throughout London and Paris. In the evening he works in his tent at a history of the war, and composes the most delicious verses in German. The Colonel also works hard.