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"On the Firing Line"

A week later, he turned up at the Captain's room in
Cape Town, with a bundle of clothes and a story that was as leaky as
a sieve. The Captain sent him out to Maitland to be licked into
shape, and this is the result."
"No," Carew objected in a sudden burst of prophecy. "Mind my words,
Paddy has not resulted yet. That will come, later on in the game."


CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Winburg may have all the elements of greatness; but greatness itself
is lacking. Nevertheless, after watching a convoy train tool along
over the green-flecked yellow veldt at the rate of six miles a day,
after seeing nothing but an occasional isolated farmhouse, the
little town appeared like a centre of civilization and excitement to
the bored troopers, as they rode up the main street and pitched camp
on the western edge of the town. There they sat and idly wondered
behind which particular hill was the largest commando. No type of
boredom is more acute than that which links itself with periods of
inaction in the army. Fifteen minutes would have sufficed to exhaust
the resources of Winburg; the troopers remained there for fifteen
days. Only Kruger Bobs was fully in his element.


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