For full three months now, the greater number of the troopers had
been dodging up and down over the surface of the Orange River Colony
on the heels of the tireless De Wet. After accomplishing forty
futile miles a day, after subsisting chiefly upon army biscuits and
bully beef, they had earned their right to rest. This, at least, was
the opinion of their adjutant.
All the day before, there had been flying rumors of a forced march
on the following morning; but no orders had been given, and just at
nightfall had come the definite announcement that no move would be
made until after Christmas. Those who had seen their adjutant going
away from the colonel's tent, half an hour before, were able to draw
their own conclusions. The rest accepted the fact as it stood, and
made no effort to account for the change in their plans. It was
enough for them that two thousand sheep were to be roasted, to the
end that every man might eat his fill; and they took an eager hand,
next morning, in scooping out the ant-hill and kindling the fires
inside. Then, seated on the ground, they spun their yarns while they
waited until the white-hot earth on top of the hill gave notice that
the oven was ready for the roast.
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