"Your ward is in a shocking state. But things were not as bad in the dispensary and store-rooms as you made out last night," he said to her on their way to the station.

There was a touch of reproof in the kind voice.

"You saw the small supply which is always kept for inspection, doctor," she answered. "It is always there and is not touched when the stores run out."

His face wore a troubled look, but he said no more.

When they parted at the station he said he would report on his visit, to the Governor, and Hansie laughingly replied that she would report too.

"For you are a Briton and I am a Boer. General Maxwell must have two reports."

She found the Governor next day in the friendliest of moods and evidently satisfied when she thanked him for the improvements in her ward.

He told her that the Commandant, who had been at Irene when first she came there, was going round the country to inspect all the Camps and to write reports for him. Seeing the look of intense dissatisfaction on her face, he asked whether she did not think that Commandant ——would do it well.

"No, indeed," she replied. "I think I would do it a great deal better. Will you let me go round to all the Camps also, to write reports for you?"

She spoke in jest, but to her surprise the Governor immediately entered into the idea, saying that it would be a great help to him to know that he could rely on getting truthful reports.

"You must come and see me later," he continued. "I advise you to take a few weeks' rest before you begin this tour. Is there anything else I can do for you now, or, I should say, for your people, for I have done nothing for you."

"Not just now, thank you, General; but I will let you know when I am able to go round to the Camps, and when I take up my work again at Irene."

Suddenly she remembered the unposted letter in her handbag.

"But there is something else——" She hesitated.

"I have a private letter for Holland here. It contains no word about the war, but I cannot let it pass through the hands of the censor. May I ask you to send it for me? I can assure you——"

"With pleasure," he broke in. "I will see that it is dispatched safely."

"Thank you very much. Shall I tell you what it is about?"

"Oh no; I trust you."

He handed a piece of sealing-wax to her.

"What is this for?" she asked.

"To seal the letter," he replied; but she quickly answered, with a smile:

"Oh no; I trust you."

He gave her a long official-looking envelope, into which she placed her letter, and, when she had readdressed it, he closed it with the stamp of the Military Governor's office.

Now, this little scene could not have taken place a few months, or even a few weeks, later, but at the time Hansie had no secrets to conceal from the Governor, and she had no reason to feel the slightest qualm in asking him to do her this personal favour.

But the time was soon to come, however, when she remembered the incident of the uncensored letter with no small degree of discomfort—when she found herself in the midst of conspiracies against the enemy, conspiracies of a far more serious nature than the harmless "smuggling" hitherto carried on by her and her mother.

"He would never believe that that letter contained no war news, if he were to find out what we are doing now," she thought then. "This kind of thing must cease—no more favours from the enemy, and, if I can help it, no more interviews with the Governor. But there is this tour of inspection—no getting out of that, and I shall have to see a great deal of him. Well, as far as the Camps are concerned, I can always 'play the game' to him. That is a thing apart."

A few days after this interview with the Governor, Mr. Cinatti called at Harmony with the interesting news that General Maxwell had invited the entire Diplomatic Corps to spend a day with him at Irene.

"We are going to-morrow [July 13th]," he said. "Now, why are you not there?" looking dolefully at Hansie.

"Oh, why did I leave my little round tent at Irene Camp?" she wailed. "But I will give you a letter for Miss Findlay, Mr. Cinatti. She knows all my worst cases and she has many quite as bad in her ward. Ask to see her, and whatever you do, don't forget to ask for Dr. Neethling."

Dr. Neethling was the only Dutch doctor in the Camp, and he was seldom in evidence when there was any question of inspection. That Consular visit to Irene must have been quite an event. General Maxwell, Major Hoskins, and all the Consuls in a body went through the Camp and hospital, and made the usual inspection of foodstuffs and "medical comforts."

They were satisfied that great improvements had been made, but they did not see the volunteer nurses or Dr. Neethling, although Mr. Cinatti asked three or four times for Miss Findlay and all the Consuls asked to see Dr. Neethling. These good people were not forthcoming, and there was so very much to see that it was time for the sumptuous lunch, with which General Maxwell treated the Consuls at the Railway Station, before further questions could be asked.

On the return journey General Maxwell inquired of Mr. Cinatti what he thought of the Camps, to which Mr. Cinatti replied, with that quaint mixture of pathos and humour which characterised him:

"General, your tiffin was a beauty, but your Camp—was very sad!"

Mrs. van Warmelo laughed when Hansie repeated these words to her and said:

"Oh, you have no idea how funny he is," and then she related the following incident to her daughter with great relish:

After she had drawn up the first petition, she was out driving one afternoon with Mrs. General Joubert in the latter's carriage, going from house to house to get the signatures to the petition, and on the Sunnyside bridge they found the three inseparable Consuls, Aubert, Cinatti, and Nieuwenhuis, out for their daily constitutional, leaning over the railings and looking down into the stream below. Approaching the bridge from the opposite direction were Lord Kitchener and his A.D.C. on horseback, and the three parties met, as luck would have it, in the centre of the bridge.

"The Consuls took off their hats in greeting to the ladies in the carriage, and then turned in salutation to Lord Kitchener, but I wish you could have seen the look Mr. Cinatti gave me, Hansie, as he glanced from the document in my hands to Lord Kitchener's retreating form. It spoke volumes, and I had the greatest difficulty in preserving my gravity."



CHAPTER XIV

NEW DEVELOPMENTS

It was in the winter of 1901, while Hansie was at the Irene Concentration Camp, as one of six volunteer nurses from Pretoria, that Mrs. van Warmelo began her first adventures with the spies, and it has always been a source of keen regret to Hansie that she was not in Pretoria at the time. But one cannot have everything, and the knowledge she gained in the Camp was more valuable to her than any other experience she went through during the war.

I have merely touched on the Concentration Camps in the previous chapter, for obvious reasons, and propose to entirely omit the events of the two months Hansie spent in the Irene Camp.

As the six volunteer nurses were soon after expelled from the Camp by the military authorities, there was, fortunately for her, no opportunity of returning to her labour of love. Other duties awaited her at home, however, and by degrees she came into full possession of the facts connected with her mother's experiences during those months.

Amongst the men caught in Pretoria on June 5th, 1900, when the British first entered the capital, were two heroes of this book, Mr. J. Naude and W.J. Botha.

These men were destined, through their indecision in allowing themselves to be caught like rats in a trap, to fulfil with honour a role of great importance in the history of the war—a role unknown to the world, and without which this book would probably not have been written. Mr. Naude—who, by the way, was well known in town as beadle of the Dutch Reformed Church on Church Square immediately opposite the Government Buildings—had, after the first few days of uncertainty and remorse, no intention whatever of remaining long in durance vile.

With a few comrades in the same predicament as himself, amongst whom were Willem Botha and G. Els, he laid his plans for a speedy escape, and for the purpose of spying more effectually he used the tower of the sacred edifice for which he was responsible, as a point of vantage not only suitable but safe. With a strong telescope he took his observations, unobserved himself, from the highest point of the tower, with the result that a certain route was chosen as offering the best facilities for a safe exit from the town.

Mr. Botha should have accompanied him on this, his first enterprise; but because of Mr. Botha's physical weakness, he having been struck by lightning at Pieter's Heights while on commando, and being subject to severe headaches and unable to walk far at times, it was decided that he should wait in town until Mr. Naude could come back from commando, bringing with him a horse for the use of his friend. It was as well that Mr. Botha did not expose himself to the hardships and perils of that first flight from the capital, for though Mr. Naude, wearing an English officer's uniform and carrying his private clothes in a knapsack, escaped with the greatest ease and safety, he and his companion roamed about the veld for three days and nights without finding a trace of the Boer commandos which they were so eager to join.



They therefore ventured a return to their homes in Pretoria and accomplished this successfully at dead of night, except for a small adventure through having been delayed too long on their homeward journey, on account of which they reached the first outpost just as day was breaking.

Naude's companion, in great anxiety, suggested making a detour, but Mr. Naude, with the presence of mind which characterised his every action, answered firmly:

"No; we must go straight ahead. Perhaps the watch has already caught a glimpse of us, and any indecision on our part would be fatal."

Seeing some clothing hanging on a line to dry near a Kaffir or coolie hut, Mr. Naude annexed one or two garments, and, quickly changing his uniform for the civilian clothes he had with him, he made a bundle of his knapsack, uniform, and helmet, tying them up in the stolen articles. With this bundle under his arm and a handkerchief tied over his head, he and his companion lurched uncertainly over the veld towards the watch, after first having taken a draught from their spirit-flask.

"Halt! who goes there?"

They halted, smiling at him in an imbecile manner.

"Show me your residential passes."

His comrade fumbled in his pockets and produced his, but Mr. Naude fumbled in vain. He had no pass.

He shook his head. His smile became more inane. He muttered hoarsely:

"Can't find it. Must have lost it last night. We have been on the booze, old man."

"I can see that," the watch replied and signed to them to pass on.

That their reappearance caused a stir amongst their relatives and friends can easily be understood, and it was found necessary to keep them in hiding. The beadle had been missed from his post, and it was an open secret among his friends and certainly not unknown to the enemy, that he had made a dash for liberty. Under the circumstances he could not remain in Pretoria long, and after a few days of more spying from the church tower he made a second attempt in a different direction, with a comrade of the name of Coetzee, the first man having had enough of the dangerous game. This time their enterprise was crowned with success, and they were able to join a Boer commando under General Louis Botha, but not before they had gone through an adventure which might have cost them their lives.

They were captured by the Boers under Acting Commandant Badenhorst and detained as British spies, all protestations of their innocence proving futile, until Mr. Naude informed the Commandant that he had with him dispatches for General Botha.

Commandant Badenhorst demanded to see them.

He refused, saying that they were private documents for the Commandant-General, and that he was not at liberty to deliver them to any one else.

His word was accepted, and he was sent to the High Veld with a guard of men on foot to escort him to the General.

The want of horses proved to be a serious drawback and hardship to these men, so they determined to provide themselves with horses, of the very best, and appointed Mr. Naude as their leader.

Instead of proceeding straight to the High Veld, these enterprising and resourceful young fellows retraced their steps to the vicinity of the Pretoria West Station, where Mr. Naude knew that the enemy kept a number of magnificent horses for the use of officers only.

With infinite caution they approached the spot, keeping under cover until they were well within rifle-range of the men on guard. The movements of the latter were stealthily watched, and it was observed that the guard, consisting of two men, well armed, walked up and down before the stables in which the horses were kept. Meeting at a certain point, they turned abruptly and retraced their steps in the opposite direction, until they reached the limit of their beat and turned again.

Mr. Naude's plans were quickly made, and his commands given below his breath.

There was to be no bloodshed, he said. The thing could easily be done without, if his instructions were well carried out.

Two of the men were ordered to level their guns at one of the guard when he had nearly reached the point farthest from his comrade, while the others stormed the stables.

It was the work of a few moments.

The first thing the unfortunate guard knew was that he was looking straight into the barrels of two guns.

Not a word was said on either side.

Those glittering rifles, held by unseen, steady hands, flashed the unspoken challenge, "Give the alarm, and you are a dead man."

The guard stood still as if rooted to the spot.

Swiftly and silently Mr. Naude, with his few men, approached and entered the stables, cut loose the halters of the animals, and stampeded from the place.

And yet the guard stood still, transfixed by the unerring aim of those two deadly implements.

A moment more and every man was provided with a steed, another moment and they tore across the veld in mad, exultant flight, while behind them the shots rang out and the bullets fell beside them in the grass.

Eleven horses in all! Noble thoroughbreds, well trained and sensitive to voice and touch.

No fear of cruel treatment from your captors, beautiful steeds! The life you are entering upon may be full of hardship for you, but it will be free and wild, and you will be tended with all care and gentleness. These men are brave and strong, and it is only the cowardly and weak who would inflict on you one single unnecessary pain.

Serve your new masters well.

Be swift and sure when Death is on their track.

God only knows what the future holds for them of suffering and woe.

* * * * *

Not on foot, but riding like lords, these men reached General Botha's force, and the two men Naude and Coetzee, being among the only burghers on commando familiar with the route through the British lines, were thereafter employed by minor officers to travel backwards and forwards to the capital. At first their work consisted only of helping other burghers to escape, but as time went on their duties became more complicated and hazardous. There were countless commissions to fulfil and information to be obtained on every imaginable question.

The need of a body of organised men in town began to be felt more strongly in the field, and it was Captain Naude who introduced the system of employing a set of reliable burghers as spies in the heart of the enemy.

For this purpose he once again went to Pretoria with the list of names of the men he wished to interview.

Mr. Botha was the first he approached, and the former was only half pleased when he heard that, instead of the escape from British martial law, for which he had been keeping himself in readiness so long, he was commanded to remain in Pretoria as the head of a body of Secret Service men.

He protested vehemently, but his objections were overruled by the argument brought forward by Naude, a consideration for the state of his health. This was certainly a point which carried weight. He consented, and the names of the other men to be appointed as his co-operators were submitted to him for approval:

C.P. Hattingh, G. Els, W. Bosch, and J. Gillyland, a body of five men, which we shall know in future by the name of "the Secret Committee."

The Secret Service of the Boers was now well established, and could not have been entrusted into hands more capable, more undaunted, or more faithful.

Captain Naude had in the meantime earned distinction for himself as the bravest and most enterprising emissary employed in the field. He was placed by General Botha at the head of a corps of scouts, including the men who had captured the British remounts, and it is on the foundation of his adventures as captain of this body of men that this story is built.

* * * * *

We now turn to Mr. Botha and his first visit to Harmony.

It seems that Mrs. van Warmelo was one morning, during her daughter's absence at Irene, surprised by the appearance of a stranger at her house.

He introduced himself as Mr. Willem Botha and handed a card to Mrs. van Warmelo, the card of her friend Mrs. Pieter Maritz Botha, on which were written the following words, "You may trust the bearer as you would myself."

No other introduction was necessary.

Mrs. P.M. Botha, sister of Sir David Graaf, whose striking personality and unique experiences throughout the war would alone fill a big book, was one of Mrs. van Warmelo's dearest friends.

Any one coming from her to Harmony could depend upon a hearty welcome.

Mrs. van Warmelo looked at her visitor with her keen and searching eyes.

He was short of stature and carried a little walking-stick for support, and his eyes, when they looked into yours, were shrewd, humorous, and true as steel.

A great little man he was, and is to-day, God bless him!

I stretch out my hands to him across these pages and clasp his in the sympathy and understanding of what we went through together. True as steel! Yes, that describes him well, for in all his dealings he was a noble friend, an honourable foe.

Fate had been hard on him in leaving him a helpless prisoner in the hands of his enemies when his whole heart was with his brothers in the field, but Providence was kind in giving him the power and opportunity he required for serving land and people under circumstances as unique as they were dangerous and difficult.

From him Mrs. van Warmelo learnt of the existence of the Secret Committee.

No names were mentioned to her, but the general outline of their work was described, and her assistance was invited in that branch of the work which included the sending of dispatches to the President.

Her fame as an exceedingly clever "smuggler" had evidently spread, and if the plan of the White Envelope had been known to her visitor at the time, he would no doubt have been even more satisfied with the result of the visit.

* * * * *

That the Committee in Pretoria formed only a very small part of the scheme of espionage all over South Africa I am well aware, but it is with this particular Committee that we have to do, and a detailed account of the work carried out by them will give the reader some idea of the system generally employed by the Boers.

Not with the foolhardy young spy who came into the capital to buy a pound of sweets or a box of cigarettes, not with the reckless youth who came in to spend a few days with his friend and to escort his sweetheart to church on Sunday night, thereby increasing the difficulties and danger of detection for his more earnest fellow-countrymen, are we concerned in this book.

These escapades were of such frequent occurrence, and were so well known to many people in town, that it would have been dangerous in the extreme to use them for serious purposes.

From the earliest days of the occupation Pretoria was always full of spies, and the English were aware of it, but, do what they would, they could not prevent it.

Although we always knew how things were going in the field, I do not for a moment believe that the accounts of British reverses brought unofficially in to town by the spies were always reliable, nor do I sanction the reckless coming and going of irresponsible men. Alas, no! too bitter have been the experiences of disastrous results brought about by their thoughtlessness.

The van Warmelos were warned from the beginning against having dealings with them if they really wished to be of service to their people, to which warning they owed their safety and the privilege of being able to help their countrymen till the end of the war. General Emmet, as prisoner in the Rest Camp, also sent a warning, saying that General Botha had instructed him to tell Mrs. van Warmelo that her name was known on commando.

As time went on, Pretoria was being shut in more completely every day. Blockhouses rose on every side; on the hills which lie around the town searchlights played from commanding positions over many miles of country, making darkest night as clear as noonday; barbed-wire fences enclosed the entire capital, and outposts were on guard night and day—with no avail!

The spies glided in and out like serpents in the night, and some idea of the hardships and perils they went through in order to achieve their purpose will be given in this true story of the great Boer war, some idea of the dangers to which their assistants in town were exposed, and the part played by women and girls in the scheme of espionage.

I believe the events related here to be tame in comparison with some of the risks incurred and heroism displayed by other Boer women all over South Africa, but we must confine ourselves strictly to Hansie's diary, as it was written from day to day, before time could obliterate the smallest detail from her memory.

Hansie's diary with all the bitterness left out; Hansie's diary without its sighs and tears, its ever-changing moods, and deep emotions; Hansie's diary, shorn of all that makes it human, natural, and real,—surely what is left of it must be tame and totally unworthy of the original!

And yet it needs must be!

This book must be a calm, dispassionate review of the past, a temperate recital of historical events as they took place, and, as facts speak largely for themselves, I leave the details to be filled in by the reader's imagination.



CHAPTER XV

THE FORMATION OF THE NATIONAL SCOUTS CORPS

If what theosophists say be true, that thoughts are living forces, then it seems to me that the subtle power and influence of a national maxim must be far-reaching and powerful in its effect on the national mind.

Of this we had ample proof as the war proceeded.

With "Might is right" working ceaselessly in a hundred thousand brains, some people in South Africa and England began to believe that might was right, and with "All is fair in love and war" held up by the united force of a million minds, is it to be wondered at that anything and everything seemed justified under martial law? And yet, when we come to think of it, how pernicious and demoralising the effect of such maxims must be on the public in general and the uneducated mind in particular. Under its influence a nation may become, in times of war, dishonourable and treacherous, may be dragged from one abyss of degradation to another, deeper than the last, until all self-respect is gone and the voice of conscience is silenced for ever.

Well may we guard against this growing evil in South Africa! Well may we keep our national mottoes pure!

I do believe that the Dutch South African saying, "Geduld en moed, alles sal reg kom" ("Patience and courage, everything will right itself"), is responsible to a great extent for the South African indifference to duty. It was first spoken by President Brand, of the Orange Free State, no doubt in all thoughtlessness of what it might lead to, for no one could have foreseen that the first part, "Geduld en moed," would fall into disuse and be forgotten, because these good qualities do not come easily to men, and the second, "Alles sal reg kom," would be made an excuse for a sort of lazy optimism, by which anything could be justified which comes easiest to us at the moment.

"Alles sal reg kom," yes, but not if we shirk our responsibilities. "Alles sal reg kom" if we are true, staunch, and honourable, if with perseverance and patient endurance we fulfil our duty when its demands upon us are most exacting and difficult.

Rightly interpreted, this popular saying would have been a strong support to the Boers at a time when they were assailed by the fiercest temptation, and this brings us to the subject with which this short chapter deals.

We were frequently told during the war that it was Lord Kitchener's policy to procure the services of as many members of the opposing forces as could be persuaded, for material considerations, to take up arms against their fellow countrymen, a policy which he had often employed in other countries and to which he owed much of his success. This may or may not have been the case in previous wars in which he had taken a leading part, but in the great South African war this policy was crowned with undoubted success, in the formation of the National Scouts Corps.

The thought has occurred to me that the words "National Scout" may convey nothing to my English reader.

Would to God that it conveyed nothing to us either!

It will be necessary to explain. The first downward step to becoming a National Scout was the voluntary surrendering of arms to the enemy, to become a "handsupper," as the burghers were called, who laid down their arms while the Boer leaders were still in the field.

There were three kinds of handsuppers; first, men who, through a mistaken sense of duty, surrendered themselves to the enemy, in order to bring the war to a speedy termination and so to save the women and children from further suffering; second, the men who, wearied of the strife, became hopeless and despondent and only longed for peace, indifferent as to who should prove to be the victor in the field; and third, the men who, through their lust for gain, fell an easy prey to the temptations offered them in gold and spoil by the enemy, surrendering their trusty Mausers in exchange for the Lee Metfords of the enemy, with whom they thereafter stood, side by side, in infernal warfare against kith and kin. To the latter class of handsuppers the National Scouts, better known throughout the war as "Judas-Boers," belonged. In most cases they were first employed by the enemy as "Cattle Rangers," to gather in the livestock from the farms and protect them from recapture by the Boer commandos. The next step downwards followed as a matter of course, active service against their brother burghers.

A few months after the occupation of Pretoria the first public meeting was held in the Rex Bar, now known as the Lyceum Theatre, on Church Square ("under the Oaks"), for the purpose of recruiting National Scouts from the ranks of the burghers in Pretoria. Many prominent men attended this meeting, which, it will be remembered, was presided over by a distinguished British officer. These men went, not to become members of the National Scouts Corps, but to ask a certain question when the right moment arrived—and then they rose with one accord. "What about our oath of neutrality?" They were told that the oath of neutrality need not disturb any one who wished to join the ranks of the enemy; it would be nullified by the oath of allegiance, and was declared to be "a mere formality." The noblest motives for uniting their strength to that of the enemy, in the endeavour "to restore peace to the land," were laid before the burghers of the Transvaal. Not only would the helpless inmates of the Concentration Camps be spared further suffering, but the deplorable loss of life of men on both sides in the field would cease.

Then too, the pay was a consideration not to be despised in days of so much hardship and privation. Large sums were paid for the capture of each brother burgher, and so liberal a share in the plunder brought home by them that there are, at the present time, well-to-do farmers, poor before the war, now flourishing and well known in their districts as successful "pocket patriots."[1]

The National Scouts became a strong and well-organised body of men, versed in all the arts of Boer warfare, familiar with the country—a dangerous and treacherous addition to the difficulties with which the faithful burghers were beset.

It must be clearly understood that there can be no comparison between the act of the men who, when condemned to death, saved themselves by turning King's evidence and the treachery of the men who, voluntarily and for greed of gold, took up arms against their fellow-countrymen. Under the impulse of fear men may be guilty of a crime for which they may have to do penance with lifelong remorse, and for these we may feel pity, even if we do not understand and cannot enter into the cowardly weakness by which they were driven to betray their comrades. But in the case of the National Scouts there were no extenuating circumstances except perhaps that the greater responsibility rested on the men who paid in dross for the dishonour of their fellow-creatures.

It was the public recruiting of National Scouts from amongst the burghers who had taken the oath of neutrality that first induced the Boers who remained true to their cause to use their influence in bringing the war to an end. But they determined to assist their fellow-countrymen, not the enemy, and when the call came from the field they were found ready to depart for active service or willing to devote themselves to secret service in the towns, as the case may be. I may say here that the appointment of the Secret Committee did not at any time bear an official character.

Although the Boer leaders knew of its existence and made use of information conveyed through the members, they did not approve of the work of espionage being carried on in the towns, because of the great danger to which it exposed the women and the needless risks incurred by the men.

The Secret Service of the Boers was not confined to the burghers. In every department of importance there were British subjects in the employment of the Boers, especially in that part connected with the registration of names of the men who joined the National Scouts.

From every part of the Transvaal the names and addresses of Boers joining the English were sent to British head-quarters in Pretoria, these lists being again conveyed to Captain Naude, who passed them on to Boer head-quarters in the field.

There was no break in this part of the Boer espionage until the war came to an end.

In the Burgher Camps Department, as the head-quarters of the Concentration Camps in Pretoria were called, there were men at work for us too, men who by smuggling through statistics of the high mortality and other facts connected with the Camps, strengthened the hands of the pro-Boers in England and acquainted the world with the real state of affairs even before the Blue books could appear.

Towards the latter end of the war thousands of burghers had succumbed to their temptations, and the appalling increase of the Scouts Corps preyed on the minds of the Boer leaders more than any other calamity. Everything that ingenuity could devise was tried to stop the burghers from sinking deeper into degradation, members of the Scouts Corps, when captured by the Boers, being executed without mercy and their fate made known far and wide.

Hell was indeed let loose in South Africa and every man's hand was turned against his brother. The worst passions of mankind rose to the surface, were deliberately played upon, making havoc of every tradition of country and race.

In the towns, where the renegades felt themselves comparatively safe under the protection of the British troops, their work was carried on quite openly. It would not be possible to describe the feelings of the faithful Boers when they contemplated this hideous aspect of the war.

Many futile efforts were made to stem the tide of crime, but it was a woman in Pretoria who devised a plan which would undoubtedly have struck terror to the hearts of many waverers had it been put to practice by the Boer leaders, after she had successfully carried it out.

At her instance a trusted mechanic, working secretly at dead of night, made half a dozen tiny branding-irons in the form of a cross, to be used for branding the traitors between the eyes, when captured red-handed. This drastic measure was, however, not resorted to.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: "Zak-patriotten."]



CHAPTER XVI

A CONSIGNMENT OF EXPLOSIVES

The following story was related to Hansie by her mother soon after her return from the Irene Camp, and must be repeated here for its connection with subsequent events.

One afternoon in June Mrs. van Warmelo had been visited by a young friend, Miss F., with a man whom she introduced as her brother, an unexpected arrival from Europe.

"Indeed!" Mrs. van Warmelo exclaimed. "What a delightful surprise it must have been to you!"

"Yes, but he is leaving again very, very soon. In fact"—here Miss F.'s manner became mysterious—"he is here on a mission and we shall see very little of him."

Mrs. van Warmelo expressed her regret at this, and the conversation naturally turned to the general topic, the war.

Leading questions were put to Mrs. van Warmelo, and she felt that her assistance was required for some purpose or other; but being too discreet to invite her visitors' confidence, she waited.

After beating about the bush a good deal, Miss F. remarked:

"You know the Zoutpansberg District very well, do you not?"

"Yes," Mrs. van Warmelo answered; "we lived there formerly."

"Then you will perhaps know trustworthy people in Pietersburg, people on whom one can thoroughly rely in these days."

Mrs. van Warmelo answered hesitatingly:

"Yes—there is one, at least, on whom I can depend."

"Would there be much risk and difficulty in communicating with General Botha through such a person?" Miss F. inquired.

"General Botha!" Mrs. van Warmelo exclaimed. "But he is not in the north. He is on the High Veld, somewhere south-east of Transvaal, and much easier to communicate with than if he had been in Zoutpansberg."

"How could one get a message through to him?" Miss F. asked, and her hostess decided to beat about the bush no longer.

"Do you not think it would be better to trust me and tell me what you wish to do? I would be better able to answer and help you."

Miss F. then turned to her brother and said:

"Mrs. van Warmelo is quite right. Tell her everything." Upon which the young man explained that he had been sent out on a secret mission connected with a consignment of dynamite which lay buried on the eastern frontier. News had been received in Europe that there was a dearth of explosives and, consequently, a temporary cessation of adventures on the railway lines, and it was for the purpose of communicating the fact that this consignment had arrived that he had travelled to Pretoria via the East Coast and over Durban. How to get into touch with some reliable person in Pretoria who was in direct communication with the Boer forces had been his greatest problem, and he was grateful indeed for Mrs. van Warmelo's guarded promise of assistance.

"I cannot tell you anything now," she said, "but if you will leave the matter in my hands I promise that you will hear from me to-morrow morning."

Mr. F. then told her that he had brought with him a small quantity of the dynamite, made up into two separate parcels, non-explosive apart, but dangerous when mixed together in a certain way. He had been deputed to instruct the Boers how to mix these ingredients.

He had with him, too, a large prospecting hammer, the long handle of which was bound with leather and closely studded with nails. But the handle was hollow and contained a number of detonators, to be sent out to the Boers for blowing up trains and for damaging the railway lines and bridges. One other article of interest he had brought with him, a huge Parisian hat for his sister, and he told Mrs. van Warmelo how the polite inspector of goods on the frontier had held the lovely headpiece up, admiring the pink roses nestling in black lace and chiffon, and little dreaming that he was handling many yards of dynamite fuse.

"A lovely hat!" he exclaimed when he put it back into the box, without having noticed the weight, which alone would have betrayed it to any one familiar with ladies' headgear.

Early next morning Mrs. van Warmelo sallied forth to the house of her confederate, Mr. Willem Botha, at the other end of the town. He listened to her story attentively and said, "There are spies in town at this very moment, and they are leaving for the General's commando to-night."

This was good news indeed, and Mrs. van Warmelo immediately made an appointment with Mr. Botha to meet Mr. F. at Harmony that afternoon.

On her way home she called at Miss F.'s house, informing her of the appointment.

That afternoon at Harmony a map was closely studied by the two men and the exact spot pointed out where the dynamite lay buried, while Mrs. van Warmelo packed the detonators one by one in cotton wool in a small box, which was conveyed to Mr. Hattingh's house, where the spies were being harboured. In the meantime the entire crown and brim of the lovely Parisian hat had been unpicked, and that night the dynamite fuse, wound closely round the body of a spy, went out to the commandos, with the small box of detonators.

Soon after this Mr. F. returned to Europe as he had come, via Natal and Delagoa Bay, well satisfied that his mission should have been accomplished with so much ease.

What became of the sample of dynamite my reader will see in the next chapter.



CHAPTER XVII

THE FIRST INTERVIEW WITH SPIES, INTRODUCING TWO HEROES

Among other things, Mr. Willem Botha warned his friends at Harmony against having a single incriminating document in the house.

"Detection means death for all concerned," he said one day, "but without written evidence the worst the enemy can do is to send you out of the country or to a Concentration Camp. Destroy every paper of a dangerous nature you may have, as I have done, and then you need never feel anxious."

This wise counsel was all very well, but Hansie had a mania for "collecting," and she could not make up her mind to destroy what might become a valuable relic of the war.

She therefore had her diaries and white envelopes removed to some safe hiding-place and began a new book for future use.

In this book, in everyday pen and ink, she entered the ordinary events of the day, but in another she wrote in lemon-juice her adventures with the spies and all information of an incriminating character. Both books lay open on her writing-table—the "White Diary," as she called it, with its clean and spotless pages, with only here and there an almost invisible mark to show how far she had got, and the misleading record in pen and ink to throw the English off their guard in the event of an unexpected search of the house.

The white diary gave a sense of security and satisfaction at the thought of the secrets it contained for future reference, and it was only after eight years that portions of the writing became visible to the naked eye.

A few hours' exposure to the sun's rays, and the application of a hot iron here and there, made it sufficiently legible to be rewritten word for word, and it is to the existence of this diary that we owe our accurate information of what otherwise would have been lost for ever.

I may add here that it was only the re-reading of the White Diary after so many years, and the surprising amount of half-forgotten information Hansie found in it, that suggested the idea to her mind of publishing its contents in the form of a story.

It was on the morning of July 17th, 1901, that Mr. Botha was seen coming up the garden path between the rows of orange trees at Harmony, with his jauntiest air, by which it was evident that he was the bearer of news from the front. Briefly he informed our heroines that two spies had come in the previous night and wished to see Mrs. van Warmelo about certain communications sent out by her to General Botha a few weeks back. They were staying with Mrs. Joubert, widow of the late Commandant-General P.J. Joubert, and were leaving again the next night with dispatches.

In the interview with them at 9 o'clock the next morning Hansie made her first acquaintance with Captain Naude, who plays the principal part in the story here recorded, and whose courage and resource gave him an unquestioned position of leadership.



Good reader, do you know what it means to be an unwilling captive in the hands of your enemy for more than a year, and then to find yourself in the presence of men, healthy, brown, and hearty, your own men, straight from the glorious freedom of their life in the veld? Can you realise the sensation of shaking hands with them for the first time and the atmosphere of wholesome unrestraint and unconscious dignity which greeted you in their presence? Well, I do, and it would be useless trying to tell any one what it is like, for those who know will never forget, and those who don't will never understand.

In Mrs. Joubert's drawing-room they were waiting for their visitors next day, Captain Naude and his private secretary, Mr. Greyling—the former a tall, fair man, slightly built and boyish-looking and with a noble, intelligent face, the latter a mere youth, but evidently shrewd and brave.

The first eager questions naturally were for news of Fritz, the youngest of the van Warmelos and the last remaining in the field since the capture of his brother Dietlof in April of that year.

Mr. Greyling said that he had seen Fritz a few weeks back in perfect health and in the best of spirits, but barefoot and in rags. His trousers were so tattered that he might as well have been without, and Mr. Greyling had provided him with another pair. With unkempt beard and long hair he seemed to justify the jest about a "gorilla" war with which some of our enemies amused themselves.

When the merriment occasioned by this description of the young warrior had subsided, the conversation turned on more serious matters.

The Captain had with him a full report of the last conference held by the generals, and a copy of the resolution passed by them and President Steyn, a unanimous determination to stand together until their independence had been secured. What the ultimate destination of these documents was I am not at liberty to say, but copies of them were despatched, smuggled through in one way or another to President Kruger.

Captain Naude also brought greetings from General Botha and told Mrs. van Warmelo how pleased the General had been with the news she had sent him on a previous occasion.

In order to explain the nature of the business which had brought the Captain into Pretoria again, it will be necessary to turn our attention for a moment to the matters referred to in the previous chapter in connection with which he had once more risked the dangers of a visit to the capital.

"Yes," in answer to his inquiries, "the dynamite has arrived and is at Delagoa Bay. A sample will be brought to this house to-day, with instructions for mixing it."

This was glad news for the two men, and Hansie soon after took her leave, promising to come back in the course of the morning with the dynamite.

Her manner was rather mysterious, and she took some unnecessary turns, to make sure of not being followed, before she reached the house where the dangerous article had been hidden. There a brown-paper parcel was handed to her with a brief, "Read the instructions and destroy them," and she was left alone in a quiet drawing-room.

On opening the parcel she found a small bottle of yellowish powder, ostensibly a remedy for colic, to be used in the way prescribed, and a pot of paste purporting to be an excellent salve for chapped hands. The two, when mixed together in a certain way, made up one pound of dynamite and had passed safely through the hands of the inspector of goods on the frontier.

As Hansie was cycling back to Mrs. Joubert's house with her precious parcel, she had to pass the Military Governor's offices on Church Square, and the thought occurred to her that this was a fitting opportunity to interview General Maxwell regarding her tour of inspection to the Concentration Camps, and at the same time to procure a permit for the Vocal Society to hold a charity concert.

"Why not go in now?" she thought. "There is some fun in going to see the Governor with one pound of dynamite in one's hands, and it would save me the trouble of coming into town again. Another thing: if I am being watched or followed, I am sure there can be nothing like a visit to Government Buildings to disarm the most suspicious."

Arrived at the Governor's office, she noticed with some amusement that the urchin at the door wrote on the card, under her name, "Nature of business: permission to have a consort." (This was indeed to come later!)

The German Consul was engaged with General Maxwell and Hansie had a long time to wait, and when at last she was shown in she found the affable Governor in a very bad temper and his A.D.C., Major Hoskins, looking anything but comfortable.

The former shook hands and greeted her with a curt, "Well, what is the matter with you now?"

"That is very unkind of you, General," she said.

"Why?" he demanded.

"Oh, because it sounds as if I trouble you every day."

"Well," he answered, smiling slightly, "what can I do for you?"

"That's better, thank you," exclaimed Hansie cheerfully, and straightway plunged into business.

With her mind dwelling on explosives and Secret Service men, she reminded him of a promise he had given her soon after her return from the Irene Camp, that she should visit all the Camps in the Transvaal and write reports for him, to be sent to London if necessary, for publication in the Blue books.

"I have come to arrange with you about my tour," she said.

"Yes," he answered. "I have thought about it and will give you the necessary permits and every facility. You will travel at Government expense, and I will do all I can to make your way easy, on one condition. You must promise to give me a full and true report of things exactly as you find them."

Hansie was deeply touched by his confidence in her truth, which she knew was not misplaced, and gladly gave the promise he asked from her.

"What you are undertaking," he continued, "will not only be difficult, but dangerous. The accommodation in the Camps will probably be very bad, and what would you think of a charge of dynamite under your train?"

Hansie glanced down at the parcel on her lap and said something about thinking she would risk it.

The conversation was taking an unexpected turn, and she longed to get away, but the Governor still had much to say to her.

"You can safely visit all the Camps except those in the north, in the Zoutpansberg and Waterberg districts, and the one in Potchefstroom." ("Boers ahead!" was Hansie's mental comment.) "And I don't think you ought to go alone. Have you thought of any one who could accompany you?"

"Yes," Hansie replied. "A friend of mine, Mrs. Stiemens, who nursed with me at Irene, would like to go with me. She is the right woman for such an undertaking, strong and healthy and very cheerful."

This suggestion meeting with the Governor's approval, it was arranged that they should visit the camp at Middelburg first, and while they were preparing for the tour he would notify their visit to the various commandants and arrange about the permits.

Permission to hold a concert was instantly granted, and she was on the point of leaving, when he asked her whether she had heard of President Steyn's narrow escape.

Yes, she had heard something, but would like to know more about it.

With evident enjoyment he proceeded to relate how the President had slept in Reitz, a small, deserted village in the Free State, with twenty-seven men, how they had stabled their horses and made themselves generally comfortable for the night, how they were surrounded and surprised by the English, who took all their horses before the alarm could be given, how the President escaped on a small pony, which was standing unnoticed in the back yard, and how all the other men were captured, General Cronje (the second), General Wessels, General Fraser, and many other well-known and prominent men. The President must have fled in the open in nothing but a shirt, because all his clothes and even his boots were left behind. In his pockets were many valuable letters and documents.

Altogether this event must have given the English great joy, but I think they forgot it in their chagrin at the President's escape, for when Hansie openly rejoiced and blessed the "small unnoticed pony," expressing her great admiration for the brave President, the Governor suddenly turned crusty again and said he could not understand how any one could admire a man who had been the ruin of his country.

"Poor old General!" Hansie mused as she cycled slowly up to Mrs. Joubert's house, where the spies were waiting for her. "I have never known him so quarrelsome and unkind. I wonder what it could have been! The German Consul's visit or the President's escape? What a mercy that he knew nothing of——" She cycled faster, suddenly remembering that it was late and there was still much to do before the two men could begin their perilous journey that night.

After she had handed the parcel over to them, with verbal instructions for its use, she bade them good-bye and went home to lunch.

That evening Mrs. van Warmelo took important documents, of which we speak later, and European newspaper cuttings to the Captain, with some money for her tattered son, and a letter for him in a disguised hand. No names were mentioned, and in the event of the spies falling into the hands of the enemy, nothing found on them could have incriminated any one.

They were about to leave when she arrived at Mrs. Joubert's house.

Their preparations were conducted in perfect silence, except for an occasional whispered command, while outside, guard was kept by an alert figure, slender and upright, the figure of the aged hostess of the spies, who, it is said, was never visible to the spies and never slept by day or night as long as these men were being sheltered under her roof.

A brave and dauntless woman she was, knowing no fear for herself, but filled with concern for the fate of the men whose capture meant certain death, for it was whispered in town that on the head of Koos Naude, Captain of the Secret Service, a price of L1,000 had been fixed.

The men left Pretoria that night for the "nest" of the spies in the Skurvebergen, west from Pretoria, and from there they proceeded to where they expected to find the Generals.



CHAPTER XVIII

THE CASE OF SPOELSTRA

There were so many events of importance during the month of July 1901 that there is great difficulty in choosing the right material from Hansie's diary.

No wonder that that period seems to have been in a state of chaos, for the things to which we attached the greatest importance "ended in smoke," and seemingly small incidents assumed gigantic proportions before the glorious spring broke over the country.

Hansie was busy preparing for her tour of inspection through the Camps, though to tell the truth she rather dreaded it, because she was far from strong, but she realised that this was an opportunity not to be despised.

General Maxwell frequently impressed it on her that she was the only exception, that no one else who had applied for leave to visit the Camps had been granted permits—it was against the regulations, and he was only sending her because he knew he could depend upon her. He wanted to know the truth, and she, with her knowledge of the country and people, would be better able to draw up reports than any one else he knew.

Very flattering, but Hansie's heart sank when she thought of Irene.

What awaited her on this tour?

On July 27th, when she paid him her last visit in connection with her passports, he asked her, as she was on the point of leaving him, whether she did not think the Boers ought to surrender now.

Now, Hansie had firmly made up her mind not to be drawn into argument with him again, but this question took her so much by surprise that she flared out with:

"Don't you think the English ought to give in? Why should the Boers give in? We are fighting for our own, and England is fighting for what belongs to another. Why should England not give in?"

With some asperity he answered:

"I suppose it is a question of 'Eendracht maakt Macht,' or whatever you call it."

"Eendracht maakt Macht?" she exclaimed. "I really fail to see the connection."

"Well," he answered, "isn't Might Right all the world over?"

"No, indeed!" she cried vehemently. "Might is right in England, and your motto is an apt one, but in South Africa might is not right. Our motto, 'Eendracht maakt Macht,' means 'Unity is Strength.'"

The General seemed much surprised and did not look pleased at her assurance that he had been misinformed as to the correct translation—he had been told on "good authority" that the Boer motto was the same as the English.

"If might had been right," she continued, "the war would have been over long ago—our poor little forces would have been crushed—but unity is glorious strength, an inspired strength."

Alas, alas, that she was so soon to find out how a want of unity can bring disaster and defeat!

"It is very stupid to argue with him. Surely he cannot expect to find my views changing on account of the duration of the war!"

Now, whether this unfortunate conversation had anything to do with the next developments I do not know. I do not think so, for the Governor was a broadminded and just man, not to be deterred from his purpose by any small consideration, but the fact remains that Hansie received a curt note from him four days later, informing her that he had changed his mind about allowing her to inspect the Camps, and that all her permits had been cancelled. No word of apology or regret, but a curt request to return to him the passports and letters of introduction she had received from him.

"Serves you right," her mother said, "for showing your enemy your hand."

"Oh no," Hansie said, "I am positive that has nothing to do with it; in fact, I don't believe General Maxwell is responsible for this at all. He is acting under orders, and if I am not mistaken Lord Kitchener is at the bottom of it. He has put down that awful foot of his, mother, and there is nothing more to be done."

"Perhaps"—Mrs. van Warmelo looked grave—"perhaps they have found out something. I have often wondered at finding myself still at large after the commotion made about the petitions and the report of the Consuls. I can't forget how critical things seemed to me when three Consuls came to Harmony late at night, while you were at Irene, to warn me that the whole detective force was on the track of the petitioners. Poor Mr. Cinatti was frightfully excited and said that it was his duty to see that his petitioners' names did not become known. He warned me that everything would be done to find us out, traps would be set for us, and he advised me, if ever any one came to Harmony and said that my name had been revealed, I was to say No! No!! No!!! and he danced about the room, striking his left hand with his clenched right fist at every 'No!'"

Hansie laughed and said, "There is no fear of your being found out. The petitioners won't talk of that, you may be quite sure, and all the Consuls are to be trusted."

"What are you going to do about this?" her mother asked, touching the General's note.

"Oh, I am going to wait a few days to make him 'feel bad' and then, I suppose, I must return my passports to him."

She waited three days, and then the General's behaviour strengthened her in her belief that he was not to blame for the shabby way in which he had treated her.

He was most penitent, begged her to forgive him for having caused her so much inconvenience, and said he had been "very weak" in entertaining the idea of her visiting the Camps.

They talked about certain improvements which Hansie had suggested, and on which she had intended to lay much stress in her reports.

He promised that everything in his power would be done to arrest the high mortality, and, encouraged by his sympathetic attitude, she pleaded for "poor Middelburg."

"I have just been told that there were 503 deaths in that Camp during last month [July]. Can that be possible?"

"I am afraid it is only too true," he answered, sighing heavily. "The people on the High Veld are very badly off during this bitter weather."

"Will you allow me to send the warm clothing and blankets which I intended to distribute in the Camps?" she asked.

"Certainly, the more the better. Every facility will be afforded you in this."

Hansie felt happier after this conversation with the Governor, more convinced that something would be done to alleviate the sufferings in the Camps.

* * * * *

Now, if our heroine had been allowed to carry out her tour of inspection, she would have been out of "mischief's way" for many months, and much of what I am about to relate would not have taken place at all.

"Fair play is bonny play," and a breach of faith is bound, at some time or other, to be followed by undesirable consequences.

Hansie made up her mind to serve her country in another, perhaps better way, and in this she was assisted by the resistless hand of Fate, as we shall see in the following chapters.

That she was never "caught" is a marvel indeed, for she was most reckless of danger.

There were a number of intimate and trusted friends with whom she came into frequent contact, but who had no idea of the work which was being carried on at Harmony.

To these friends, however, she went with her "reliable war news" (more especially news brought into town by the spies, of the Boer victories) when anything of importance became known, and in time her friends found out that her news could always be depended upon as reliable indeed, although they had no inkling of the source whence it had been derived. There was danger of her becoming altogether too "cocksure," when she was one day pulled up sharply by the following occurrence:

Captain Naude was in town again, was, if I remember rightly, under her very roof, when she visited a man for whom she entertained feelings of great affection and esteem, with the object of gladdening his heart with news of a particularly gratifying nature from the front.

He listened attentively, he asked a number of questions, nodding with the greatest satisfaction at her direct and definite replies.

"I must go," Hansie exclaimed suddenly, "I only came in for a few moments. We have to see some friends off to-night."

"Ah! Just wait a minute, please, will you?"

He hastened from the room, returning shortly with a parcel which he placed in her hands without a word.

"What is this?" she asked curiously.

"Five pounds of the best Boer tobacco."

"For me?" in amazement.

He approached her and whispered in her ear:

"For the spy!"

Hansie fled from that house, laughing as she went, and patting her parcel of tobacco rapturously.

"Oh, mother, wasn't it funny of him?"

"Yes, but when will you learn to be more careful? Hansie, you are frightfully reckless. You will not listen to reason, I suppose, until we find ourselves across the border and Harmony confiscated!"

The Captain was delighted with the present and willingly added the extra five pounds weight to his cumbrous and heavy burdens.

* * * * *

Somebody, leaving the country for Holland, offered to take documents and letters from the van Warmelos to the President on condition that they could guarantee that he would not be "found out."

This offer came at a most opportune moment, for there was information of the greatest importance to be sent to Mr. W.T. Stead.

For some weeks past Mrs. van Warmelo had been anxious to smuggle through to him copies of the two petitions to the Consuls and a copy of their report on the Concentration Camps. For this the White Envelope was not considered satisfactory enough—the documents were too bulky and the post during those days not to be depended upon.

The information, therefore, was written on tissue paper (the usual method) and packed in a small bottle of Dr. Williams's Pink Pills, to be handed to a relative of Mrs. van Warmelo's in Holland, with instructions that he should read the contents and forward them without delay to Mr. Stead for publication in the Review of Reviews.

The "medicine" was faithfully delivered in Holland, but alas! the recipient, with unheard-of presumption, after having read the documents, decided in his own mind that they were not of sufficient importance to be published in London and quietly kept them to himself!

Kept them to himself, at a time when their publication to the world would have been of inestimable value to the Boers and would perhaps have saved thousands of lives!

Of course this breach of trust was not known at Harmony for many months—not, in fact, until so long after it took place that the war was drawing to a close, and it was too late to repeat the attempt.

When one thinks that but for one man's indifference to duty the report of the Consuls would have been published in London at a time when all England was shaken with the revelations made by Miss Hobhouse and the agitation of the pro-Boers was at its height, then one cannot help realising the futility of fighting against Fate.

Not yet had the time of salvation arrived for the victims of the Concentration Camps—not yet—not until the toll of life had been paid to the uttermost.

Other schemes for supplying that section of the British public, desirous of being acquainted with the truth, with trustworthy information from South Africa, met with greater success, and I relate the following instance for the sake of the interesting circumstances connected with it, not for its own sake, for obvious reasons.

Many of my readers will remember the case of Mr. Spoelstra, a Hollander, which caused such a commotion in the Transvaal during the war.

He wrote a long letter for publication in Holland on the hardships and ill-treatment to which the Boer women were subjected in transit from their farms to the Concentration Camps, by the soldiers (chiefly, I may mention here, the Canadian Scouts and Australian Bushrangers, who were, however, all regarded as British soldiers, these distinctions not being sufficiently clear to the average South African).

This lengthy document Spoelstra confided to the care of a man who was about to leave for Holland.

On the borders of Natal, the man, on being cross-questioned by the inspector of goods, became so confused and agitated that he brought suspicion on himself, with the result that he was detained while his luggage was thoroughly overhauled.

The unfortunate letter was found, Spoelstra was arrested and immediately imprisoned in the Pretoria Jail.

The Dutch Consul, Mr. Domela Nieuwenhuis, on being appealed to, insisted on a public trial, which was granted after some delay, Spoelstra being allowed three days in which to procure his witnesses, in Pretoria and in the small Camp in one of the suburbs, not in Irene.

Notwithstanding the shortness of the time and the restrictions placed upon him, he succeeded in getting nearly thirty women to give evidence on his behalf, and at his trial, which was publicly held, revelations of a very startling nature were made.

The greatest indignation was felt and freely expressed by the Dutch community when, in spite of having proved his accusations beyond a doubt, Spoelstra was fined L100 and sentenced to one year's imprisonment.

The fine was immediately paid by his friends.

Now, there was a brave Englishwoman, Mrs. Bodde, married to a Hollander, who was shortly leaving for England, who offered her services to Mrs. van Warmelo if the latter wished to make the circumstances of the case known to Mr. Stead. This was an exceedingly plucky thing to do, for the examinations on the frontier were much more severe than usual, after the discovery of Spoelstra's letter. Mrs. van Warmelo therefore promised to take extra precautions in concealing the articles she wished to send. After a great deal of trouble she succeeded in getting a full report of the Spoelstra trial, sixty large pages of closely typed evidence on tissue paper, and with this valuable material to dispose of Mrs. van Warmelo realised that it would be necessary to exert the utmost ingenuity.

She asked her friend Mrs. Bodde whether she would be taking a lunch-basket.

Certainly she would.

"Well," Mrs. van Warmelo said, "I will give you something for your lunch-basket, if you will promise not to open it until you get to London."

She promised, and Mrs. van Warmelo bought a tin of cocoa, a one-pound tin, unfastened the paper wrapper carefully, then damped the paper round the lid until it could be folded back without being damaged, removed the lid and pulled out the paper bag containing the cocoa. This bag she unfastened at the bottom, shook out fully two-thirds of the cocoa and filled up the empty space with the tightly rolled packet containing the documents, replacing the whole in the tin, cocoa side up, of course, and pasting down the paper wrapper over the lid to make it look like new.

Although there was very little cocoa in the tin, it was found to weigh exactly one pound as before.

Arrangements were then made with Mrs. Bodde for her future correspondence on the subject with Mrs. van Warmelo, and in due time the latter received a note from Mrs. Bodde announcing her safe arrival in London and saying that her friend Mrs. Brown (Mr. Stead) had received her (the documents) with open arms. She was not going to live in Mrs. Brown's house as she had intended (the documents would not be published in the Review of Reviews), but she was going into a house of her own (they would appear in pamphlet form).

This was good news indeed, and now my readers know how it came about that the sensational Spoelstra case was published in London in pamphlet form (in three successive pamphlets, for the evidence was found to be too bulky for one) during the war. The first pamphlet reached Harmony in safety through the post, the second and third, though duly dispatched, failed to reach their destination, but nobody at Harmony minded. The great object had been achieved.

Hansie, going to the post one day, took out of her letter-box a small flat book, addressed to "Mrs. Wentworth, Box 56."

She was about to throw it back into the Post Office, with "not 56" scribbled on it, when her eyes fell on the English postmark, Tunbridge Wells, and she stayed her hand in time.

Tunbridge Wells was the address of the brave Englishwoman, the great pro-Boer, and the package when opened was found to contain a copy of Methuen's Peace or War in South Africa, which was first "devoured" at Harmony and by other people in Pretoria and was then sent out to the commandos by the spies, to be read and reread by the burghers until there was nothing left of it except a few tattered pages.

Soon after the publication of the Spoelstra case there was some excitement in Pretoria about the appearance in the Westminster Gazette of a long article on the Irene Concentration Camp. The writer, who gave each detail with great accuracy, seemed to have personal knowledge and experience of the Camp, and it was not surprising that Hansie should have been taxed with it on every side.

The Consuls spoke to her direct, advising her to be more careful of her facts, and Mr. Cinatti, when she assured him of her innocence (?), said with huge delight, in his funny, broken English:

"Never mind, my dear little sing, you need not confess to us—but are you good at guessing riddles?"

"Not particularly."

"Well, dis one won't trouble you much. What is dis? It is small and oblong and white, and it was laid by a hen?"

"An egg," Hansie answered innocently.

He shouted with laughter.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course."

"Well, we are just as sure dat Miss van Warmelo wrote dat article. And if you want to see your work in print I'll bring it round dis very afternoon."

"I should like very much to see it," she replied.

That afternoon, just before Mr. Cinatti was expected, Gentleman Jim killed a big snake in his room, and Hansie, thinking to give her funny friend a fright for misdoubting her word, "arranged" the corpse on the steps of the front verandah, hiding the mutilated head under the leaves of the violet plants.

But the Consul came late, and other visitors before him heralded their arrival by shrieks and jumps, to the great delight of the mischievous girl.

"You are a very pranky little sing," Mr. Cinatti said, flourishing the Westminster Gazette before her eyes, "and den you want us not to believe dat you wrote dis."

And indeed, when Hansie glanced through the article, she found it difficult to maintain that she had not written it, for there were all her "pet" cases of overcrowding and underfeeding, her statistics, and the very terms she was in the habit of using when speaking of the volunteer nurses. She called them a "set of agitators," in sarcastic imitation of the Commandant's favourite expression.

The only explanation to the affair could be that Mr. Stead, or perhaps Mrs. Bodde, had made use of the facts contained in one of Hansie's smuggled letters, and in that case she could naturally be held responsible. She was advised by loving friends to keep her boxes ready packed for a speedy departure, "for when the warning comes you will not be allowed much time to pack."

But she disregarded all warnings, except to take extra precautions for the safety of her diary.





CHAPTER XIX

DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND!

It would be a simple matter for me to fill this volume many times by relating the thrilling experiences and adventures of people unknown to me personally and yet known sufficiently by intimate friends who guarantee their truth and veracity, but this is not my intention in writing this book.

A brief outline, however, of the history of one of the principal members of the Secret Committee, during the war, will not be out of place here, because of his close connection with the "Petticoat Commando."

Mr. C.P. Hattingh, head keeper of the Government Buildings under the South African Republic and deacon of the Dutch Reformed Church under the Reverend Mr. Bosman, played the part of an honourable and staunch burgher throughout the war, and rendered countless services to destitute women and children, in addition to his strenuous labours on the Secret Service.

On the morning of June 5th, 1900, when it became evident beyond doubt that the British would enter Pretoria that day, he removed the Transvaal flag from Government Buildings and took it to his house for safe keeping.

To his surprise he was not asked at any time by the military what had become of the Government flag, and he was able to keep it in safety until his position on the Committee became precarious and made it dangerous for him to preserve this precious relic of the past at his own house any longer.

He therefore secretly conveyed it to the house of a friend, Mr. Isaac Haarhoff, whose wife carefully concealed it until the war was over, and then handed it to him again. He gave it to General Botha, who presented it to the Pretoria Museum, where it is now preserved and exhibited as a priceless national memento.

Mr. Hattingh took the oath of neutrality with the other burghers in Pretoria and maintained his post in the Government Buildings for one month after the occupation of the capital. He was then asked either to take the oath of allegiance or resign from his post.

He chose the latter alternative, although he had a wife and family to support and knew not how, in time of war, he would find the means to do so.

After some deliberation he decided to begin a private bakery in a small building behind his house, and then began what proved to be a desperate struggle for existence.

With Boer meal at L8 per bag and flour at L5 per hundred pounds, the unfortunate man tried to make a small profit on the tiny sixpenny loaves. There was no question of engaging hired help, and he was obliged to work almost day and night in order to make the business pay. Sometimes he had neither sleep nor rest for thirty hours at a stretch except while partaking of his frugal fare. When flour became even more scarce he had to augment his supply by mixing it with mealie meal, ground sweet-potatoes, and barley, until, in fact, only sufficient flour was used to keep the loaves from falling to pieces.

By hard work he was not only able to pay his way, but assisted relatives and friends in a similar predicament.

As one of the deacons of the church, he came into constant touch with the wives and families of fighting burghers, brought into town from their devastated homes, and it was a common sight to see a row of these unfortunates standing in his back-yard, holding dishes and buckets containing their rations of meal and flour, which they implored him to take in exchange for his ready-baked loaves, because there was a dearth of fuel.

Although their rations consisted of what had perhaps once been flour, but was now a black and lumpy composition, evil-smelling and swarming with vermin, the good man never disappointed his petitioners.

His fame as a philanthropist spread, and the rows of women in his back-yard increased. While engaged in serving them he listened to their tales of hardship and privation, watched their suffering faces, made mental notes of the harrowing details of each case.

There was an epidemic of "black measles" going through the town at the time in the overcrowded quarters of the "Boer refugees," as they were called. Scarcely a mother appealed to him who had not lost one or more children, in many cases all she possessed, within a few weeks.

Now, Mr. Hattingh would no doubt have concerned himself with the peaceful occupation of his bakery until the end of the war (for he had his hands more than full), had his compassionate heart not been wrung beyond endurance by the scenes he was forced to witness every day. His conscience smote him and he reproached himself with being in town when duty should have called him to the side of his fellow-countrymen, struggling against such fearful odds in their efforts to preserve their independence.

Bitterness filled his soul.

What religious and conscientious scruples he still had against violating his oath of neutrality he laid before his most trusted friends, to be met with the same answer everywhere, "The oath of neutrality is null and void, a mere formality," as the enemy had declared in connection with the recruiting of National Scouts from the ranks of the Transvaal burghers.

At this critical moment it was not to be wondered at that he should have accepted Captain Naude's appointment of him on the Secret Committee, not only without hesitation, but in a spirit of intense satisfaction.

Henceforth the mind of the baker dwelt with ceaseless activity on the problems of the Boer espionage, while his busy fingers plied the brown and white loaves of bread.

Inspired by patriotism, driven by love and compassion, he became in time the most resourceful, the most ingenious, and the most trusted of Boer spies.

One evening, soon after dusk, while he was engaged in his bakery, he heard a timid knock at the door, which he opened, fully expecting to see a customer.

To his surprise he found there a Boer with a long, unkempt beard—a "backvelder," or, as we call it, a "takhaar," of the most pronounced type.

The man withdrew into the shadows as the door opened, and with great apparent timidity showed as little of himself as possible.

Mr. Hattingh asked him to come in, and he ventured forward with shrinking hesitation.

"What can I do for you?" Mr. Hattingh asked.

"Take me in," the man answered breathlessly. "Harbour me. I am a Boer spy, straight from the commandos."

Mr. Hattingh betrayed the greatest amazement, as if he had never heard of the possibility of such a thing.

"A Boer spy!" he exclaimed. "How did you come in?"

The man described the route he had taken, and in an instant Mr. Hattingh, with his intimate knowledge of the actual route employed by Boers, realised that the man before him was not from the field at all, but a National Scout, employed by the British to betray the loyal Boers—a "trap," in fact, such as were in constant use against their brother burghers.

Mr. Hattingh asked him a few more leading questions to satisfy himself of the true nature of the man's errand, and then, as if suddenly recalled to himself, broke out in evident agitation:

"But I cannot harbour you, my good fellow. I am neutral."

"Surely you would not have the heart to see me fall into the hands of the enemy!" the man exclaimed.

"I am very sorry," Mr. Hattingh replied, "but I dare not take you in."

"Tell me some news, then," he implored. "Our men are getting hopeless and desperate, and when we bring them news from town it gives them new courage to continue the war."

"I know of no news to tell you. I am neutral," Mr. Hattingh answered firmly, and the man left him with his mission unaccomplished.

Unseen himself, Mr. Hattingh watched him depart, and saw him getting into a cab, which was evidently waiting for him in the neighbourhood, and drive rapidly away.

Mr. Hattingh immediately went to his neighbour, Mr. Isaac Haarhoff, and told him what had happened.

"What do you think I ought to do? I am under suspicion without a doubt."

"Report the matter to the authorities at once," Mr. Haarhoff answered, and our friend accepted the advice with alacrity.

He mounted his bicycle and rode with all speed to the nearest Charge Office, reporting that a Boer spy had been to his house for refuge that evening.

"Why did you not bring him with you?" the officer inquired.

"I did not know what to do," Mr. Hattingh began, when another official made his appearance and asked what the matter was.

The first related what had occurred, and Mr. Hattingh, keenly watching the two men, saw the significant glances they exchanged, and caught the whispered:

"It is all right."

"No, old man," he thought, "it is all wrong, and you have been my dupe."

The men then turned to him, telling him that if he were visited by a spy again he was to take him in and report him at the Charge Office.

"Right," he replied. "I will do so." And on his homeward way he congratulated himself with the thought that he had no doubt been entered on the lists as a "faithful British subject."

This incident was followed, as far as he was concerned, by far-reaching consequences. Not only was he left with his family in the undisturbed security of his home-life after that, but he was able to carry on his work on the Committee in perfect safety, and when eventually the darkness closed over him in his prisoner's cell, he felt assured that this would count in favour of his wife and family.

Many were the men led by him through the streets of Pretoria to the spot where the burghers awaited them, countless and valuable the services rendered to the Boer commandos, innumerable the acts of kindness and charity performed by this brave burgher of Transvaal.

Mr. Colin Logan, who gave up an excellent position in the bank, was one of the men escorted out by him in order to join the Boer forces.

Riding slowly on his bicycle, with Mr. Logan walking beside him, they passed through a group of military tents, almost touching the soldiers as they sat around their camp-fires.

Not a shadow of suspicion could be roused by their calm behaviour, and they reached the burghers without any difficulty.

While they were exchanging a few words of greeting, the sudden, furious barking of the dogs at the Lunatic Asylum, not far from them, warned them of danger, and, taking a hasty leave, the burghers disappeared noiselessly into the darkness, and Mr. Hattingh literally tore home across the veld on his bicycle, clearing holes and jumping over stones in his mad career. He was able to reach his home just in time to be under shelter when the "curfew" rang 10 o'clock, the hour at which all respectable citizens, carrying residential passes, were supposed to be indoors.

What eventually became of Mr. Hattingh and the other members of the Committee we shall see as our story proceeds.



CHAPTER XX

THANKSGIVING AND HUMILIATION

The documents sent out to General Botha, and referred to in Chapter XV, were connected with the report of the Consuls, but the very first thing sent to the commandos by Mrs. van Warmelo was a copy of the first petition, tightly packed in a walnut, one of a handful which she gave the spy, with instructions not to eat any of them on the road.

He also took a verbal message to the effect that though the condition of the Camps was bad, everything was being done in town to bring about the necessary improvements. Influential people were at work to make everything public in Europe, and the men in the field were urged to be brave and steadfast and of good cheer.

On July 29th Harmony was visited again by Mr. Willem Botha, bringing with him information of a disquieting nature.

In some mysterious way he had received a piece of paper from Mr. Gordon Fraser, brother-in-law to President Steyn, and prisoner of war in the Rest Camp in Pretoria, on which, in a disguised hand, was written a message imploring the Secret Service men to warn President Steyn and General de Wet that a certain man amongst them, a prominent official, was a traitor in their midst, paid by the enemy to betray their plans before they could be carried out.

This information made the conspirators very anxious, for it being full moon, there was no prospect of spies coming into town, and in the meantime incalculable mischief could be done. Neither was it possible to send any one out who had not been before and was ignorant of the route. The matter had therefore to be left until the next suitable opportunity came and Mr. Botha went home with a heavy heart.

Unlike his usual prudent self, Mr. Botha did not immediately destroy the slip of paper on which the warning was written, but folded it carefully and placed it between the tattered leaves of an old hymn-book.

How he paid for this small indiscretion, the only one of which he was guilty, with days of anxiety and despair, and very nearly with his life, we shall see as our story develops!

* * * * *

In the early days of August the troops encamped around Harmony could, if they had used their sixth sense, have divined an air of suppressed excitement about the place.

Expectation of some sort evidently charged the atmosphere. Visitors were, in fact, expected, for Captain Naude and his secretary had arranged to come in for the report of the Consul, just before the new moon made its appearance, and now a faint crescent of silver in the heavens warned our heroines that their time was at hand.

Harmony had been chosen as a place of refuge, as the safest spot in all Pretoria, with so many troops around it!

For several nights in succession a fire was kept going in the kitchen until a late hour, and a plentiful supply of hot water kept in readiness for the warm baths which the visitors would so sorely need after their difficult and perilous journey.

Still they did not come, but on the morning of August 4th Mr. Botha paid an early visit, bringing with him the news that on the previous night five spies had reached the town in safety.

He did not tell where they were being harboured, it being one of the laws of the Secret Committee that names were not to be used needlessly, and that the people working for the Committee were not even to know about one another.

So rigorously was this law enforced that from beginning to end the van Warmelos had dealings with Mr. Botha only, and did not see the four other members of the Committee, nor even hear their names until——

The five spies had not come in as easily as usual. They had persistently been followed by the searchlights as they neared the town, but they were able to get through the barbed-wire enclosure in safety and had then separated and gone to their various homes, unobserved as they thought.

But one of them, a young man whom we shall call Harry, who was destined to play such a terrible part in the history of the Boer Secret Service, was followed home by three detectives, two of whom stationed themselves at the front door and the third at the back.

Fortunately when Harry became aware of his danger, he rushed out at the back.

The detective, whose name was Moodie, shouted, "Hands up, or I fire," but the young man drew his revolver with lightning-like rapidity and, firing twice, escaped from town under cover of the darkness.

The reported death of the detective caused a great sensation in the town next day, and it was not until many months after that we learned of the fate of the unfortunate man, not death, but mutilation worse than death—a ghastly wound below the heart and an amputated leg.

This event caused the British to enforce a stricter vigilance, and many houses were searched for the other spies, but without success.

The excitement in town did not abate for some time, and wherever Hansie went she was told what had taken place by people who would have been surprised indeed to hear that she was in possession of all the details, and even of documents brought in from General Kemp by those very spies.

The instructions were to see that the information contained in those documents reached the Consuls without their knowing how and when they had been brought into town, and for this purpose several copies had been typed and were slipped under the doors of the different Consulates while the inmates were asleep.

Any day between August 5th and 10th Captain Naude said he would come, and each evening found Harmony prepared to receive him, but on the 9th Mr. Botha brought a note from the gallant Captain saying that he would be unable to partake of Mrs. van Warmelo's hospitality that month. A woman, whose name was unknown, had conveyed this letter to the Secret Committee. It contained no particular news except that August 8th had been celebrated as a day of thanksgiving for our victories, and the 9th, the very day on which the intimation was received in town, would be a day of humiliation for our many sins.

When this became known to the "inner circle," private prayer-meetings were immediately held in different houses in the town, while the men in the field held their day of humiliation under the open sky. In this way we worked together and supported one another spiritually, morally, and practically, in spite of searchlights and barbed-wire fences.

This was the first news received of the Captain's safe return to the commandos after that eventful visit in July, and his friends were thankful to receive it. Another source of thankfulness was the fact that he was not coming in that month, for the enemy was on the qui vive for more spies, and consequently the dangers were multiplying for the Boers. The reckless coming in and going out of irresponsible men became a source of real danger to the people who harboured them, and on August 12th Mr. Botha came again to warn Mrs. van Warmelo against having dealings with any spies except those sent by the Secret Committee.

"You will only find yourselves in jail or over the border," he said, "which would not be so bad if that were all, but it would ruin our chances of assisting the Generals."

He then reported that a young spy had come in on Saturday night and that he had been taken to Mrs. General Joubert's house the next morning while she was in church. The good lady was anything but pleased, on her return home, to find him there, for she had a houseful of people, and she was obliged to stow him into a tiny room, where he sat as still as a mouse, until he went back to commando. Not very cheerful for him, but a good lesson for the future!

* * * * *

Five or six men who tried to escape from town were captured near the Magaliesbergen and placed in the Rest Camp, so Dame Rumour said at the time, but the truth of the story, briefly related, ran thus:

I have mentioned the nest of the spies in the Skurvebergen not far from Pretoria in the western direction.

This "nest" had been surprised and taken possession of by the English while five of the spies were in Pretoria, and they, cut off from their own people as they were, were unable to escape.

One or two attempts were made, but the men were fired on and they had to abandon the idea for the present.

The curious part of this story is that these men (one can hardly call them spies) were Pretoria men who had escaped to the Skurvebergen for the first time only three weeks previously, and had gone backwards and forwards several times with small necessaries. One of the five, a man whose name I cannot mention here, for the sake of what is to follow, had been so often, and was so much at home both in Pretoria and the Skurvebergen, that his dearest friends did not know to which part of the country he really belonged!

Well, he was in a nice predicament now!

The house in which he was being harboured, with one of his friends, was unfortunately suspect. He could not remain there, neither could he escape from town.

Some one came to Harmony in great distress. What was to be done with those two men? To what place of refuge could they be moved that night? The visitor looked imploringly at Mrs. van Warmelo as if he expected her to offer Harmony, but she, mindful of Mr. Botha's warning, did nothing of the kind.

"Death is staring them in the face," the visitor continued. "I don't know what to do!"

Hansie, who knew the visitor well and trusted him implicitly, then pleaded with her mother—to no avail, Mrs. van Warmelo remaining firmly obdurate, and saying distinctly, for the edification of her visitor, "I have never harboured a spy, and I hope I never shall."

When the good man had departed, in sore disappointment, Hansie grumbled a good deal and said it was all very fine to assist these Secret Service men when there was no danger in doing so, but her mother took no notice of her for the rest of the day, and subsequent events proved that she had acted wisely in refusing to harbour men unknown to her.

What became of them at the time she did not know, and a few weeks elapsed before the crushing sequel to this escapade became known.



CHAPTER XXI

FLIPPIE AND CO.

"Was there no fear of betrayal through the servants at Harmony?" I have often been asked since the war, and this reminds me that a short introduction to the other inmates of the property will be necessary for the reader's benefit and understanding.

The lower portion of Harmony, through which the Aapies river runs, was occupied by Italian gardeners, who employed a varying number of Kaffir labourers in the extensive fruit and vegetable gardens.

The upper part, on which the house stood, was entirely under Mrs. van Warmelo's management. No white servants were kept, the domestic staff consisting of native gardeners, a stable-boy, and a house-boy, neither was there a single female domestic, either white or black, on the place.

One day a small white son of the soil presented himself and asked for work.

Mrs. van Warmelo looked him up and down and said she did not farm with children.

"What is your name?" Hansie asked.

There was no answer, and then she noticed that the little stranger was staring straight in front of him, while two great tears rolled slowly down his cheeks.

This touched her, and she repeated her question persuasively.

"Flippie," he answered brokenly.

"Where is your mother?"

"Dead."

"And your father?"

"Fighting, with five sons."

Then Hansie felt inclined to take him in her arms and kiss him for his dead mother and brave father and brothers.

She turned to her mother and whispered:

"Let Flippie stay. Make some agreement with him and let us try him as errand-boy or general help in the house and garden."

Mrs. van Warmelo nodded and turned again to him. The conversation which passed between them is not recorded in Hansie's diary, but Flippie stayed, and within a week the Harmonites wondered how they had managed to exist without him for so long.

He was as sharp as a needle, and, though only thirteen years of age, he proved to be a perfect "man" of business, rising early every day to go to the morning market and gardening with surprising energy and ambition.

This pleased Mrs. van Warmelo so much that she gave him a plot of ground to cultivate for himself, and he immediately set to work to plant vegetables, spending every spare moment of the day in his garden.

When Hansie laughingly said that she hoped to be his first customer, he protested vehemently against the idea of selling anything to her, and time showed that he meant to keep his word.

All he had was given away with large-hearted generosity and when he had nothing more to give, he took all he required from other people!

Yes, I am afraid Flippie's ideas of honesty were curious in the extreme. He had no idea of "mine and thine," as we say in Dutch.[2]

Arguments were of no avail, for Flippie was the scornfullest little boy I ever came across and knew everything better than his superiors.

Hansie set to work to study him, but found it necessary to reconstruct her ideas of him every day. Flippie baffled her at every turn.

One day she thought he would turn out to be a genius, the next she declared positively that he would come to the gallows, and the third she wondered helplessly whether he could by any chance do both.

Flippie could lie and deceive with the most angelic face and could melt into tears on the least provocation or whenever it suited his book to do so.

A phrenologist would have delighted in the study of that remarkable head.

The forehead receded and went on receding until there was nothing left of it but a great lump at the back of the head, and the little nose tilted up at one in the most impertinent manner, which was given the lie to by the drooping corners of the sensitive mouth. What delighted one most was the sunny temperament, the ringing, infectious laugh, the cheery whistle.

Surely Flippie was the merriest and one of the most lovable little souls one could find anywhere, and his ruling virtue always seemed to be his unswerving loyalty and constant fidelity.

His heart seemed to be torn between his sense of duty to the fearful and wonderful old grandmother, who had taken the place of his dead mother in what bringing-up he ever had, and his sense of gratitude to his protectors at Harmony.

My story would not be complete without a short sketch of this grandmother, for she played a part of some importance in the events recorded here, and was at all times a sore trial to the inmates of Harmony.

We have no proof, but we think that Flippie's grandmother had a hand in the undoing of the security and peace which reigned supreme at Harmony before she came upon the scene.

Not that she ever lived on the property; no, her home was a small tent, one of a number which had been erected some little distance to the south of Harmony on Avondale, on the property of Mr. Christian Joubert, on the way to the "Fountains."

These tents were largely occupied by "handsuppers" and their families, amongst whom were found a few Judas-Boers—Boers of the most dangerous type. That the life of the loyal Boers in their midst was anything but a bed of roses can very well be imagined, and we know that bitterness and strife reigned supreme, for it was an open secret that renegades, hirelings of the enemy, held their dreaded sway over the inmates of that small colony.

Flippie and his grandmother did not belong to that degraded set, but the one was a thoughtless child and the other an exceedingly suspicious and inquisitive old woman, and that they were both used as unsuspecting tools by their more designing fellows I have not a shadow of doubt.

Mrs. van Warmelo and Hansie soon gave the old granny the name of "Um-Ah," for her tongue had been paralysed by a "stroke" twenty years back, and "Um-Ah," was all she was ever heard to say. It stood for yes and no and for every imaginable question, being only varied by the tone of voice in which it was said. Sometimes, when she became excited or impatient, it was fired off four or five times in quick succession.