"You ought to have gone last night." "Why ?" I asked as I took the glass; and then, "Oh!" I exclaimed in a tone of disappointment.
"Yes, you may well groan," cried my companion.

"Why didn't the chief let you go ?" There was good reason.

We could see plainly enough that the Boers were unloading the wagons, and the Kaffirs hard at work carrying bags which no doubt contained mealies or flour.

To me the sight was maddening, for it now seemed one of the easiest things in the world for us to have captured and carried off one of the laden wagons.
"There, it's of no use to cry after spilt milk," said Denham, with a groan.
"Nor is it of any use to despair," I replied as I watched the unloading.
"Perhaps they may leave one of the wagons full." "Oh, they will, of course!" said Denham mockingly.

"They'll pick out the best one, containing a nice assortment, and label it, `Reserved for the use of the Natal Light Horse.