I took advantage of his escort
to carry out a long-cherished desire to see the wreck of the armoured
train at Kraipann. Accompanied by a boy to show us the way, we started
after an early lunch. As it was a Sunday, there was not much fear of our
meeting any Boers, as the latter were always engaged that day in
psalm-singing and devotions. We cantered gaily along, passing many
Kaffir huts, outside of which were grouped wondering natives, in their
Sunday best. These kept up a lively conversation with our guide as long
as we remained within earshot. I was always impressed with the
freemasonry that existed in that country among the blacks. Everywhere
they found acquaintances, and very often relations. They used to tell me
that such and such a man was their wife's cousin or their aunt's
brother. Moreover, as long as you were accompanied by a native, you
were always sure of certain information concerning the whereabouts of
the Boers; but to these latter they would lie with stupid, solemn faces.
When we neared Kraipann, we came to a region of rocks and kopjes, truly
a God-forsaken country. Leaving our horses in the native stadt, we
proceeded on foot to the scene of the disaster. There was not much to
see, after all--merely a pilot armoured engine, firmly embedded its
whole length in the gravel.
Pages:
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123