The main ambulance is on the cricket ground.

The battalion tents are pitched among the rocks or by the river side, where Kaffirs bathe more often and completely than you would otherwise suppose.

The river water, by the way, is a muddy yellow now and leaves a deep deposit of Afric's golden sand in your glass or basin.

The headquarters staff has seized upon two empty houses, and can dine in peace.

The street is one yelling chaos of oxen in waggons and oxen loose, galloping horses, sheep, ammunition mules, savages, cycles, and the British soldier.