The idea is that the British soldier can
only do himself justice when the chance of taking anything like an
intelligent interest in his work is altogether denied him. The
consequence is he is driven to supply the deficiency out of his own
imagination. Ladysmith has already been taken and relieved at least a
dozen times, and Mafeking almost as often. To-day Buller is on his way
to Pretoria; to-morrow the Boer army will be marching on Cape Town.
As for our own little army, we have been digging ourselves in here, and
are perfectly secure, and I daresay we shall be able to keep open the
line all right. As to relieving Kimberley, that is another thing. Cronje
evidently doesn't think we can, for he has just sent us in a message
offering us twenty-four hours to clear out in. He is a bit of a wag is
old Cronje.
LETTER VII
RECONNAISSANCE
BIVOUAC ON THE MODDER,
_January 15_, 1900.
At Modder River camp the dust lies thick and heavy. Every breeze that
blows lifts clouds of it, that hang in the air like a dense London fog,
and mark the site of the camp miles and miles away. The river, more
muddy than ever, moves languidly in its deep channel. There is a Boer
laager some miles above the camp, the scourings of which--horrid
thought!--are constantly brought down to us. The soldiers eye the
infected current askance and call it _Boervril_.
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