olonel Baden-Powell. This gentleman had a supreme contempt
for bullets, and certainly did not know the meaning of the word "fear,"
but the bursting shells produced a disagreeable impression on him. "Does
it always go on like that?" he asked, when he heard the vicious hammer
of the enemy's Maxim. "Yes," somebody gloomily answered, "it always goes
on like that, till at length we pretend to like it, and that we should
feel dull if it were silent."

Although the soldiers in Mafeking were disposed to grumble at the small
part they seemed to be playing in the great tussle in which England was
engaged, the authorities were satisfied that for so small a town to have
kept occupied during the first critical month of the war 10,000--and at
later stages never less than 2,000--Boers, was in itself no small
achievement. We women always had lots to do. When the hospital work was
slack there were many Union Jacks to be made--a most intricate and
tiresome occupation--and these were distributed among the various forts.
We even had a competition in trimming hats, and a prize was given to the
best specimen as selected by a competent committee. In the evenings we
never failed to receive the Mafeking evening paper, and were able to
puzzle our heads over its excellent acrostics, besides frequently
indulging in a pleasant game of cards.

In the meantime food was certainly becoming very short, and on April 3 I
cabled to my sister in London as follows: "Breakfast to-day, horse
sausages; lunch, minced mule, curried locusts. All well." Occasionally I
used to be allowed a tiny white roll for breakfast, but it had to last
for dinner too. Mr. Weil bought the last remaining turkey for L5, with
the intention of giving a feast on Her Majesty's birthday, and the
precious bird had to be kept under a Chubb's lock and key till it was
killed. No dogs or cats were safe, as the Basutos stole them all for
food. But all the while we were well aware our situation might have
been far worse. The rains were over, the climate was glorious, fever was
fast diminishing, and, in spite of experiencing extreme boredom, we knew
that the end of the long lane was surely coming.

CHAPTER XIII

ELOFF'S DETERMINED ATTACK ON MAFEKING, AND THE RELIEF OF THE
TOWN--THE MAFEKING FUND

"War, war is still the cry--war even to the knife!"--BYRON.

"The Boers are in the stadt!" Such was the ominous message that was
quickly passed round from mouth to mouth on