On the Heels of De Wet | Page 4

police!
But we must be up and doing. It is an extraordinary day at De Aar.
Every one is bustling about. Staff popinjays hurry up and down the
platform. Stout elderly militia colonels, who would never be up and
dressed at this hour in ordinary circumstances, are heckling the R.S.O.,
who has more starch in his tunic than has ever been seen in a tunic
before. What does it all mean? Then we remember the naked bayonet
of the previous night. Lord Kitchener is at De Aar. Oh, Hades!
We feel his presence, but it is not long before we see him. How he must
worry his tailor. Tall and well-proportioned above, he falls away from
his waist downwards. It is this lower weediness which evidently
troubles the man who fashions his clothes. But it is his face we look at.
That cold blue eye which is the basilisk of the British Army. The firm
jaw and the cruel mouth, of which we read in 1898. But presumably
this is only the stereotyped "military hero" that the papers always keep
"set up" for the advent of successful generals. None of it was visible
here. A round, red, and somewhat puffy face. Square head with staff
cap set carelessly upon it. Heavy moustaches covering a somewhat
mobile mouth, at the moment inclined to smile. Eyes just anyhow;
heavy, but not overpowering eyebrows. In fact, a very ordinary face of
a man scarcely past his prime. Hardly a figure that you would have
remarked if it had not been for the gilt upon his hat--in fact it was all a
disappointing discovery. He was pacing up and down with his hands on
his hips, and elbows pointing backwards, talking good-naturedly to a
colonel man, who was evidently just off "trek," and with his overgrown
gait and ponderous step the great Kitchener did not look half as
imposing as his travel-stained companion.
The chief was explaining something to the colonel. They paced up and
down together for a few minutes, then stopped just in front of us, and
the conversation was as follows:--
Chief. "All right; I will soon find you a staff. Let me see; you have a
brigade-major?"

Colonel. "Yes; but he is at Hanover Road!"
Chief. "That's all right; you will collect him in good time. You want a
chief for your staff. Here, you (and he beckoned a colonel in palpably
just-out-from-England kit, who was standing by); what are you doing
here? You will be chief of the staff to the New Cavalry Brigade!"
New Colonel. "But, sir--"
Chief. "That's all right. (Reverting to his original attitude.) Now you
want transport and supply officers. See that depot over there? (nodding
his head towards the De Aar supply depot.) Go and collect them
there--quote me as your authority. There you are fitted up; you can
round up part of your brigade to-night and be off at daybreak
to-morrow. Wait; you will want an intelligence officer. (Here he swung
round and ran his eye over the miscellaneous gathering of all ranks
assembled on the platform. He singled out a bedraggled officer from
amongst the group who had arrived the preceding night in the van of
the ill-natured Africander guard.) What are you doing here?"
Officer. "Trying to rejoin, sir."
Chief. "Where have you come from?"
Officer. "Deelfontein--convalescent, sir."
Chief. "You'll do. You are intelligence officer to the New Cavalry
Brigade. Here's your brigadier; you will take orders from him. (Turning
again to the colonel and holding out his hand.) There you are; you are
fitted out. Mind you move out of Richmond Road to-morrow morning
without fail. Good-bye!"

II.
THE MEET!
The driver leaned out of the cab of his engine and gave the brigadier a

little of his mind.
"Look here, I am a civilian; I know my duties. I had my eight bogies on,
and by the rights of things I had no business to take on your beastly
truck--and now I tell you that the line is not safe, and here I stay for the
night. Bear in mind that you are now dealing with civilian driver John
Brown, and he knows his duties."
"My hearty fellow!" answered the brigadier, who had commanded a
Colonial corps too long to be put out by "back-chat" from a
representative of the most independent class in the world, "that is not
the point. If we were all to do our duty rigidly to the letter, we should
get no forwarder. It is not a matter of saving this train, it is a matter of a
gentleman keeping his word. I have given my word that I will march
out of Richmond Road to-morrow at daybreak. You wouldn't like it on
your conscience that not only had you made a pal break his