Sent one morning with a message to the
Sussex outside Slabbert's Nek I saw shells bursting, and all the
appearance of a heavy fight going on over the hills to the north-west.
This was Christian De Wet, who with several guns and about 1500
well-mounted men, had made a dash for freedom when he found the place
was getting too hot, and had been promptly tackled by Broadwood when he
got outside. Pursuer and pursued vanished into the blue distance of the
veldt, battering each other as they went, like birds that fight and fly
at the same time. Broadwood, however, had got hold of his enemy by the
wrong end. What happened exactly we don't know, but De Wet got clear
somehow, and immediately turned his attention to his beloved railway
line, which he never can tear himself away from for more than a few days
at a time. He is now, I should imagine, in the very seventh heaven of
delight, having torn up miles of it, besides capturing several trains.
De Wet is getting an immense reputation. The rapidity of his movements
is extraordinary. He always has two or three of our columns after him;
sometimes half-a-dozen. Among these he wings his way like a fowl of some
different breed, a hawk among owls. Some amusement was caused by the
report in orders the other day that De Wet had marched north pursued "by
various generals;" as if two or three, more or less, didn't matter, as
indeed it didn't.
Pages:
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194