The Boers, he said, were not suffering at all--the English could not "shoot straight." After hearing this they passed a sufficiently miserable day and evening.

About twelve o'clock that night, however, a native spy despatched by Mr.Croft returned with the report that the English general had won safely back to camp, having suffered heavily and abandoned his wounded, many of whom had died in the rain, for the night after the battle was wet.
Then came another long pause, during which no reliable news reached them, though the air was thick with rumours, and old Silas was made happy by hearing that large reinforcements were on their way from England.
"Ah, Bessie, my dear, they will soon sing another song now," he said in great glee; "and what's more, it's about time they did.

I can't understand what the soldiers have been about--I can't indeed." And so the time wore heavily along till at last there came a dreadful day, which Bessie will never forget so long as she lives.

It was the 20th of February--just a week before the final disaster at Majuba Hill.
Bessie was standing idly on the verandah, looking down the long avenue of blue gums, where the shadows formed a dark network to catch the wandering rays of light.

The place looked very peaceful, and certainly no one could have known from its appearance that a bloody war was being waged within a few miles.