"How happy and comfortable they look!" was my remark as we left them
behind. Someone who knew Kroonstadt said: "Yes, they are all right; but
the Scotch Hospital is the one to see if you are staying long
enough--spring-beds, writing-tables, and every luxury." I was sorry time
admitted of no visit to this establishment or to the magnificent
Yeomanry Hospital at Deelfontein, farther south, to which I shall have
occasion to allude in a later chapter. This last establishment was, even
at that early stage of the war, a household word among the soldiers at
the front, a dearly longed-for Mecca amongst the sick and wounded.
Our train had come to an abrupt standstill, and, on looking out, the
line appeared so hopelessly blocked that the only way of reaching the
station and lunch appeared to be on foot. We walked, therefore, upwards
of half a mile, undergoing many perils from shunting engines, trains
undecided whether to go on or to go back, and general confusion. It
certainly did not look as if our train could be extricated for hours,
but it proved there was method in this apparent muddle, and we suffered
no delay worth speaking of. The station was densely packed with Staff
officers and soldiers. Presently someone elbowed a way through the crowd
to make way for the General, just arrived from Bloemfontein.
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