aking and sleeping, by debt. "This was our menu," says
Baden-Powell: "weak tea (can't afford it strong), no sugar (we are out
of it), a little bread (we have half a pound a day), Irish stew
(consisting of slab of horse boiled in muddy water with a pinch of
rice and half a pinch of pea-flour), salt, none. For a plate I use one
of my gaiters, it is marked 'Tautz & Sons, No. 3031'; it is a far cry
from veldt and horseflesh to Tautz and Oxford Street!" But this was at
a time when B.-P. wrote in his diary: "Nothing like looking at the
cheery side of things." The morrow came when he could see nothing but
arid miles of sand, when his eyes ached as they ranged the pitiless
desert for water; there is no cheery side to that view. Halting his
party to give them a rest, he and an American scout named Gielgud
started off to make one grand effort to find river or puddle. Hill
after hill was climbed to find only a valley of dead, baked grass
beyond, and at last, broken-hearted and weary, the two riders turned
their horses' heads back to camp. Soon after this the American's head
began to bob till the chin rested on the chest, and he forgot the
quest of water in the fairyland of dreams. But B.-P. could not sleep,
and those keen eyes of his were ranging the desolate country every
dreary minute of that ride. And at last he noticed on the ground
certain marks which he knew to be those of a buck that had scratched
in the sand for water. Overjoyed he got down from the saddle and
continued the work of the buck, digging and digging with his lean
sunburnt fingers till he came to damp earth, and then--to water. At
that moment he saw two pigeons get up from behind a rock some little
way off, and leaving his oozing water in the sand he hastened there
and discovered to his supreme joy the salvation of his party--a little
pool of water.

On this expedition you will be interested to hear that a man who lent
valuable assistance to Baden-Powell was your hero of the
cricket-field--Major Poore. In the days of the Matabele campaign he
had not slogged Richardson out of the Oval, nor driven Hearne
distracted to the ropes at Lord's; he was there as Captain Poore of
the 7th Hussars, working like a nigger, brave as a Briton, and quite
delighted to be soldiering under the peerless Baden-Powell. His fame
came afterwards.

During this expedition Baden-Powell gave brilliant evidence of his
capacity as a general. He had drawn up a plan for an attack by his own
a