All thought of their return was out of the question; they had risked their lives in crossing, and I gave them orders from my side of the river not to attempt the passage back.

But they had not a stitch of clothing on them, for they had stripped themselves before entering the water! In this state, then, they were obliged to mount their horses and proceed, and this under a burning sun, which scorched them with its rays.

About three-quarters of an hour's ride from there was a Boer farm; their only course, they thought, was to ask for gowns from the ladies there, in which to dress themselves.

When they arrived at a short distance from the house (such was the account they gave on joining me later on) they halted and shouted to the house for clothing.

A Boer vrouw[89] named Boshof, sent to each one through her son--not a gown, but a pair of trousers and a shirt of her husband's, which she had been able to hide from the English, who had passed there, and who generally took away, or burnt, all male attire.
The enemy had, in the meantime, approached quite close to us, and we were again obliged to look for a drift up stream.