They believed that these came from the English camp.
We were still safe then--so at least we all believed.
But the corporal who had brought this report had but just left me, and was scarcely one hundred paces off when I heard the report of rifles.

I thought at first that it was only some cattle being shot for food, but all at once there were more shots, and what did we see?
The English were within three hundred paces of us, on a little hill near Bothaville, and close to the spot from whence my outpost had just returned.
It was early morning.

The sun had not risen more than twenty minutes and many of the burghers still lay asleep rolled up in their blankets.
The scene which ensued was unlike anything I had ever witnessed before.
I heard a good deal about panics--I was now to see one with my own eyes.
Whilst I was looking for my horse to get him up-saddled a few of the burghers were making some sort of a stand against the enemy.

But all those who had already up-saddled were riding away at break-neck speed.
Many even were leaving their saddles behind and galloping off bare-back.
As I up-saddled my horse I called out to them:-- "Don't run away! Come back and storm the enemy's position!" But it was no use.

A panic had seized them, and the victims of that panic were those brave men who had never thought of flight, but only of resisting the enemy! The only thing I could do was to leap into the saddle and try to persuade the fugitives to return.