work. The Boers themselves never
dreamed the defence would be seriously maintained, and in the early
days of the siege they sent in a messenger under a flag of truce
offering terms of surrender. Baden-Powell gave the messenger a
sumptuous lunch, himself the most delightful of hosts, and sent him
back with word to the accommodating Boers that he would be sure and
let them know immediately he was ready to yield the town. And to
Cronje's humanitarian plea that Baden-Powell should surrender in order
to avoid further bloodshed, the Goal-Keeper made answer, one can see
his eyes twinkling, "Certainly, but when will the bloodshed begin?" A
little later he got in with a still more irritating piece of irony,
addressing a letter to the burghers asking them if they seriously
thought that they could take the town by sitting down and looking at
it.

But this was at a time when Baden-Powell, in common with the rest of
us, believed that the triumphant British Army would soon be coming up
to Mafeking, and he himself able to sally out and strike a crushing
blow at the besieging force. Weeks passed and the hope died. The Boers
cut off the water-supply, and, with contrary ideas of logic, thought
that such an action would damp the spirits of Baden-Powell. But that
thoughtful and resourceful commander had seen that all the old wells
were cleaned, and well filled, so that Mafeking was as secure from a
water-famine as it was from the entrance of the Boers. Besides this,
Baden-Powell had constructed bomb-proof shelters everywhere, and a boy
stood ready with bell-rope in hand to ring immediate warning of a
shell's approach. Trenches were dug giving cover and leading from
every portion of the town. So perfect indeed were Baden-Powell's
defences that it was possible to walk entirely round the little town
without being exposed to the Boer fire. Telephones, too, were
established between the headquarter bomb-proofs of outlying posts and
the headquarter bomb-proof where Baden-Powell and Lord Edward Cecil,
D.S.O., laid their heads together and planned the town's defence. And
to keep the enemy at a respectful distance, Baden-Powell continually
sent out little forces to harass them and keep them in a state of
nerves. The Matabele never knew when Impessa was coming, and the Boers
could never lie down to sleep with the assurance that they would not
be awakened by the rattle of British musketry and the dread "Reveille"
of cold steel. Here is one instance.