On the top of the drawers were arranged a multitude of medicine-bottles, half full and half empty, cracked and whole.

The broken old washstand had been of valuable service during the night, as with it I barricaded the door, innocent of any lock or key.

When I was dressed, I walked out on to the tiny stoep, surrounded by a high paling.

My attention was at once attracted to a woman in a flood of tears, and presently the cause of her weeping was explained, as an elderly man came round the corner of the house with both his hands roughly tied up with bandages covered with blood--a sight which caused the young woman to sob with renewed vigour.
After a little talk with the man, who, in spite of his injuries, seemed perfectly well, the latter went away, and I entered into conversation with the weeping female, whom I found to speak good English, and to be the daughter of the wounded warrior, Hoffman by name and German by birth.

They were Transvaal subjects, and her father had been among the first of the burghers to turn out when hostilities threatened.