As the daylight increased so did the wind in violence; it was
blowing a perfect gale, and the dust and sand were blinding. We
outspanned for breakfast twelve miles out, at the farm of a presumably
loyal Dutchman; then on again, the wind by now having become a
hurricane, aggravated by the intensely hot rays of a scorching sun. I
have never experienced such a miserable drive, and I almost began to
understand the feelings of people who commit suicide. However, the long
day wore to a close, and at length we reached Setlagoli store and
hotel, kept by a nice old Scotch couple, Mr. and Mrs. Fraser. The latter
was most kind, and showed us two nice clean rooms. Here, anyway, I
trusted to find a haven of rest. This hope was of short duration, for
Sergeant Matthews, in charge of the Mounted Police depot, soon came and
told me natives reported several hundred Boers at Kraipann, only ten
miles away. He said they were lying in wait for the second armoured
train, which was expected to pass to Mafeking that very night, carrying
the howitzers so badly needed there, and some lyddite shells. The
sergeant opined the Boers would probably come on here if victorious, and
loot the store, and he added that such marauding bands were more to be
feared than the disciplined ones under Cronje. He even suggested my
leaving by moonlight that very night.
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