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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