There was no panic.

The few ladies who remain went riding or cycling along the dusty, blazing road which makes the town.

The Zulu women in blankets and beads walked in single file with the little black heads of babies peering out between their shoulder-blades, and roasting in the sun.

Huge waggon-loads of stores--compressed forage, compressed beef, jam, water-proof sheets, ammunition, oil, blankets, sardines, and all the other necessaries of a soldier's existence--came lumbering up from the station behind the long files of oxen urged slowly forward by savage outcries and lashes of hide.

Orderlies were galloping in the joy of their hearts.