CHAPTER FOUR.
RUMOURS OF WAR.
The Diamond-Fields Horse had drilled one evening till they were tired, and after it was all over, including a fair amount of firing, the smell of blank cartridges began to give way to the more pleasant odour of tobacco smoke, the officers lighting their cigars, and the privates filling up their pipes to incense the crisp evening air.
"I'm about tired of this game," said one of a group who were chatting together; "there's too much hard work about it." "Yes," said another.

"Someone told me it was playing at soldiers.

I don't see where the play comes." "Look at the honour of it," said another.

"We shall be defending the town directly from an attack by the Boers." There was a burst of laughter at this, and when it ended the first speaker broke out contemptuously with: "The Boers! We shall have to wait a longtime before they attack us." "I don't know so much about that," said the man who had spoken of the attack.

"I believe they mean mischief." "Bosh!" came in chorus.
"Ah, you may laugh, but they've got Majuba Hill on the brain.