a very low type, and it appeared to be left to
themselves to choose which post they would patronize. It was remarked to
me they preferred the hospital, as it was sheltered, and that the same
men had latterly come there every night. Their behaviour during their
watch was very unconventional. They came on duty about 6 p.m., and made
themselves thoroughly comfortable on the stoep with mackintoshes and
blankets. Their rifles were propped up in one corner, and the bandoliers
thrown on the ground. There were a couple of hammocks for the patients'
use, and in these two of them passed the night. Before retiring to rest,
they produced their pipes and foul-smelling Boer tobacco, proceeding to
light up just under my windows, meanwhile talking their unmusical
language with great volubility. At length, about ten, they appeared to
slumber, and a chorus of snoring arose, which generally sent me to
sleep, to be awakened two or three hours later by renewed conversations,
which now and then died away into hoarse whispers. I always imagined
they were discussing myself, and devising some scheme to step over the
low sill into my room on the chance of finding any loot. I complained
one day to the nurses of the fact that their extreme loquacity really
prevented my sleeping, and, as she told me that the patients suffered in
the same way, I advised her to speak to the sentinels and ask them to be
more quiet. She told me afterwards she had done so, and that they said
they had been insulted, and would probably not come again. We both
laughed, and agreed it would not matter much if this calamity occurred.

The next day I was still put off, when I requested to know what had been
decided about my fate. I was getting desperate, and had serious thoughts
of taking "French leave," risking Boer sentries and outposts, and
walking into Mafeking at night; but it was the fear of being fired on
from our own trenches that deterred me. Fortunately, however, assistance
was at hand. On the afternoon of the fifth day that I had spent at the
laager, a fine-looking burgher rode up to the hospital, and I heard him
conversing in very good English. Presently, after staring at me for some
time, he came up and said he had known Randolph Churchill, who, he
heard, was my brother, and that he should so like to have a little talk.
He then informed me his name was Spencer Drake, to which I said: "Your
name and your conversation would make me think you are an Englishman,
Mr. Dr