It had been arranged
that Mr. Coleman should tell them I was suffering from toothache and
swollen face. The ordeal of questioning my supposed brother and
examining our passports took some minutes--the longest I have ever
experienced. He contrived to satisfy these inquisitors, and with a
feeling of relief we bundled into the cart again and started on our long
drive to Mosita. On that occasion we accomplished the sixty miles in one
day, so afraid were we of being pursued.
On my return to Mosita I at once despatched old Boaz to Mafeking, giving
them the intelligence of the victories in Natal. This proved to be the
first news that reached them from the more important theatre of the war.
Our life now became uneventful once more. One day an old Irish lady,
wife of a neighbouring farmer, dropped in for a chat. She was a nice old
woman, as true as steel, and terribly worried by these dreadful times.
She had a married daughter in the Transvaal, and a brother also, whose
sons, as well as daughters' husbands, would, she sorely feared, be
commandeered to fight, in which case they might unknowingly be shooting
their own relations over the border. It was the same tale of misery,
anxiety, and wretchedness, everywhere, and the war was but a few weeks
old. The population in that colony, whether Dutch or English, were so
closely mixed together--their real interests so parallel--that it
resolved itself locally into a veritable civil war.
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