It was De Villiers, the commandant of the Harrismith district--a relation, a brother perhaps, of the Chief Justice De Villiers, who entertained me at Bloemfontein less than four months ago.

Across his body lay that of a much younger man, with a short brown beard.

He is thought to have been one of the old man's field cornets, and had fought up to the sangar at his side till a bullet pierced his eye and brain.
Turning back from the extremity of our position, I went along the whole ridge.

The ground told one as much as men could tell.

Among the rocks lay blood-stained English helmets and Dutch hats; piles of English and Dutch cartridge-cases, often mixed together in places which both sides had occupied; scraps of biltong and leather belts; handkerchiefs, socks, pieces of letters, chiefly in Dutch; dropped ball cartridges of every model--Lee-Metford, Mauser, Martini, and Austrian.