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fore…part of the waggon； and just before day the guards nodding in their saddles gave him the chance to drop down between the wheels； letting the waggon trek away over him。 Then he rolled himself into a little gully near the road； and； as he dared not stand up； lay cooking there during the whole of the following day with the fierce sun beating on his back。 When night came again he walked back to the English camp； a distance of nearly a hundred miles； and reported himself。
This exploit was equalled； if not surpassed； by one of my sons…inlaw； Major Reginald Cheyne of the Indian Army。 He was posted on a ridge with a few men in one of the affairs of this war when an overwhelming force of Boers opened fire on them。 He held out until all but two of those with him were dead or wounded and the ammunition — even of the wounded — exhausted。 Then； having been shot through the face behind the nose； in another part of the head； and also cut by a bullet all along the forehead； which caused the blood to flow down into his eyes and blind him； he surrendered。 He was taken prisoner； and in this dreadful state carried off in a waggon。 At night he pretended that it was necessary for him to retire。 The Boer guard showed him his revolver； which he tapped significantly。 Cheyne nodded and； taking his risks； made a bolt for it。 In due course he； too； staggered into the British camp； where he recovered。 I hope I have given the details right； but Cheyne； like Burnham； is not given to talking of such things。 It was only after much urging on the part of my daughter that he told me the story； of which I had heard rumours from a brother officer； who spoke of him as “a hero。” He was remended； together with his Colonel； for a V。C。 or a D。S。O。 — I forget which — but； unfortunately for him； the Boers captured and burnt the despatch； so that nothing was known at home of his services until too late。 However； they made him a brevet…major。 Such are the fortunes of war。
After Pretoria was occupied Burnham was sent out to cut the railway line by which the Boers were retreating。 He exploded part of his gun…cotton and destroyed the line； and then rode over a ridge — straight into a Boer bivouac！ He turned his horse and； lying flat on the saddle； galloped off under a heavy fire。 He thought he was safe； but the Boers had got his range against the skyline — it was night — and suddenly he remembered no more。 When he came to himself the sun was shining； and he lay alone upon the veld。 The horse was gone； where to he never learned。 He felt himself all over and found that he had no wound； also that he was injured internally； probably owing to the horse falling on him when it was struck by a bullet。 Near by was a little cattle or goat kraal； into which he crept and lay down。 From this kraal he saw the Boers e and mend the line。 When night fell again he crawled upon his hands and knees — he could not walk — down to the line and destroyed it afresh； for his gun…cotton cartridges remained in a bag upon his shoulders。 I am not certain whether he did this once or twice。 At any rate in the end； feeling that he was a dead man if he remained where he was； he tore up the bag； tied the sacking round his wrists and knees； and； thus protected against the stones and grass stumps； dragged himself out into the veld； where； by the mercy of Providence； an English patrol found him。 It turned out that his stomach had been ruptured； and that； had it not been for his long abstinence from food； he must have expired。 No treatment could possibly have been better for him； and as it was the break in the tissues found time to heal。 In the end he recovered； though that was the last service which he did in South Africa。 It was rewarded with a D。S。O。 and the rank of major in the British Army。 Lord Roberts gave him a remarkable letter of thanks and appreciation： it sets forth his admiration of Burnham’s skill； endurance and ability in difficult scouting inside the lines of the enemy。
Burnham told me that during that war on many occasions he passed through the sentries of both the British and the Boer forces without being seen。 Once he perated into a Boer camp and came to a waggon where a fat old Dutchman lay snoring。 To the trek…tow were tied sixteen beautiful black oxen； no doubt that Dutchman’s especial pride。 With his knife he cut them loose and drove them away back into the British lines。 Often； he told me； he had speculated as to what the old Boer said when he woke up and found them gone for ever。 On another occasion when he was scouting he was absolutely surrounded by the Boers and could find no cover in which to hide。 With the help of an old Kaffir blanket and a stick he made himself up as a beggar and limped away between them without even being questioned。
In all such matters he seems to possess a kind of sixth sense； evolved no doubt in the course of his long training in Indian warfare。 He was one of the pioneers in the Klondike； whither he travelled across the winter snows on a sledge drawn by dogs； which for some weeks were his sole panions。 These dogs he watched very closely； and as a result of his observations informed me that he was sure from their conduct at night that they possessed some elementary instinct of prayer。 His reasons are too long to set out； but they were very striking。
In Rhodesia he discovered a large amount of treasure buried in one of the prehistoric ruins and old forts； with the skeletons of unknown ancients。 I have a gold bead from it which he gave me； mounted as a pin； also some iron arrow…heads which he found amidst the bones； showing that these men died in an attack by enemies。
Such are a few of the incidents of Major Burnham’s career。 The reader might judge from them that he is a rough and uncultured man； but this is far from being the case。 Like old Allan Quatermain； he is an extremely polished and thoughtful person； and one with an extraordinarily wide outlook on affairs in general。 I remember； for instance； that he took a most lively interest in parish councils； their constitution and business。 This； after all the vast issues of life and death in which he had been engaged for many years； struck me as strange — though； as we know； elephants are adepts at the picking up of pins。
When I was missioner in America in 1905 I stayed with the Burnhams at their charming house in Pasadena； Los Angeles。 After I parted from them I travelled with another remarkable man； Mr。 Hays Hammond — who was once condemned to death with Jameson at Pretoria — across America in his private car； and spoke with him of Burnham。 Also I told him the strange tale of a certain odd gentleman of the name of Carmichael； now I believe long dead； who thought that he had discovered the secret of the hidden city of the Aztecs； that lies somewhere at the back of Chiapas； in which treasure to the value of three million sterling is supposed to have been concealed by Montezuma on the approach of the Spaniards。27 Thinking； from the documentary evidence； that there was something in this tale； a friend and I furnished Carmichael with a moderate sum of money to enable him to locate the place。 He set out； and after incredible hardships found the wrong city； or the wrong part of the right city； where his Indian carriers deserted him； leaving him suffering from fever to support life upon catfish； which he caught with a bent nail。 Ultimately he was rescued and brought back to civilisation。
26 This was the sacred treasure held by Montezuma as High Priest； which it took 1500 men to carry in bars of gold。 It must not be mixed up with the private royal treasure whereof I have already spoken； that was buried by Guatemoc — also to save it from the Spaniards。 — H。 R。 H。
Hays Hammond was so taken with this exciting narrative that he determined to send Burnham to look for the Aztec city； and telegraphed to him to e from San Francisco to New York to see him。 Needless to say； Burnham was quite ready for the adventure； and followed me to England to get particulars； among other business。 Whilst here a terrible thing befell him。 He had taken a little villa on the Thames； where he was living with his wife and a fine little boy； the brother of the child Nada。 One day the boy was missing。 His body was found in the Thames。 I was informed that when Burnham saw it he fell to the ground senseless as though he had been shot。
Afterwards he returned to America and started to look for the Aztec city； but was prevented from getting very far by a rebellion among the Indians。 His last letter to me was written from that district some four years ago。 I answered it； but since then have heard nothing from him。 I do not think that he is dead； as such news would probably have reached me one way or another； or Hays Hammond would have mentioned it when I had a hurried interview with him at the time of the King’s Coronation； which he attended as Special Ambassador from the United States。 I conclude； therefore； that Burnham is probably now engaged in all the Mexican fighting that has ensued upon the deposition of President Diaz； which leaves him no time for correspondence； or perhaps he is disinterring the treasure from the hidden city！ One day I hope that he will appear again and greet me in his quiet fashion as though we had parted but yesterday — I mean； of course； on this bank of the great “Divide。”
Chapter 18 RURAL ENGLAND
H。 R。 H。 returns to the country — Devotes himself to agriculture — “Farmer’s Year” — Arthur Young — Bradfield bust — Bobbin — Determines to follow Arthur Young’s example — Agreed with Daily Express for series of articles on Rural England — Visit to Cyprus and Holy Land — A Winter Pilgrimage — Rural England journeys — Heaviest labour of H。 R。 H。‘s life — Arthur Cochrane’s help — Hundreds of interviews — Practical results disappointing — Mr。 R。 W。 Hanbury — Agricultural Post — Lord Onslow — Mrs。 Asquith。
My town excitement over I returned to the country and the writing of books。 Oddly enough； I found that the thorough change of thought seemed to have rested my mind； with the result that my imagination was fresher than it had been for some years before。 Also the work itself was and has remained less irksome to me than during the years 1891 to 1895。 Still the desire haunted me to do something in my day more practical than the mere invention of romance upon romance。 By degrees it came home to me that a great subject lay to my hand； that of the state of English agriculture and of our rural population； also of all the questions thereto pertaining。
So forcefully did it e home that I grew to think and indeed to believe that I was appointed to serve my own； and perhaps other countries； by following up this neglected branch of research which to many has seemed so useless and so dull。 Therefore with a bold heart I gave all my spare time and energy to a study of the matter。
First I wrote the book that is called “A Farmer’s Year；” with the twofold purpose of setting down the struggles of those who were engaged in agriculture during that trying time； and of preserving for the benefit of future generations； if these should care to read of them； a record of the circumstances of their lives and of the condition of their industry in England in the year 1898。 In its way this book； which was first published serially in Longman’s Magazine — now； alas！ defunct； like most of the good magazines of my early days — proved extraordinarily successful。 It ost without exception； with great favour。 Also the letters that poured in upon me concerning it were almost without number； they still continue to arrive。 But； pared with my romances； it brought me in but a small amount of money。 For this there were several reasons。 It was published at too low a price — 7s。 6d。 — whereby Charles Longman and I hoped to put it within the reach of all； also the charming illustrations by my friend Mr。 Leon Little； of which I have the originals in this house； involved a good deal of expenditure。
The chief reason； however； is very simple。 The British public as a whole is a nation of town dwellers and not rural in its tastes。 It wants novels to read； not works that deal with agriculture in however interesting a fashion。 He who treats of such subjects must do so at his own cost and be content to take his pay in honour and glory。 Well； as