t is all. But they have stuck to their
notion of duty in the midst of danger, and no soldier could have done
more. Not all the shells fired into town on New Year's Day were
harmless, however. One from Bulwaan burst near Captain Vallentin's
house, which has been a favourite since Colonel Rhodes took up his
quarters there, and at last one hit just over the front door. It smashed
the drawing-room wall, passed thence to the kitchen, and mortally
wounded a soldier servant, whose last words to his master were, "I hope
you've had your breakfast, sir!"

Up to this time the subject of food supply, though it had long
seriously occupied the attention of the authorities, had not
gravely added to the anxieties of the siege. Under the date of 1st
January Mr. Pearse has the following entry:--

Colonel Ward tells me that rations are holding out well. Neither
soldiers nor civilians, who number altogether over 20,000, have suffered
privations yet, and, thanks to Colonel Stoneman's admirable system of
distribution, something more than beef, bread, and groceries can still
be issued to those who are too weak to be nourished by rough campaigning
fare.

Forage for horses was, however, getting very scarce, and the poor
beasts suffered greatly.

Four hundred men, including natives, are sent out every day to cut grass
on the hillsides that are least exposed to Boer rifle fire, and they
manage to bring in about 32,000 lbs. daily, but this does not go far
among all the cavalry horses, transport animals, and cattle. Many must
be left to pick up their own food by grazing under guard. The old
troop-horses, however, break away from their allotted pasturages when
feeding-time comes. Perhaps their quick ears catch the familiar bugle
call to stables sounding afar off. At all events, neither knee-halters
nor other devices are of any avail. They get back to the old lines
somehow at feeding-time, and it is pitiful to see them standing
patiently, in a row, waiting for the corn or chaff that is not for them,
trying by a soft whinny to coax a little out of the hands of soldiers
who pass them, or sidling up to an old stable chum who is better fed
because better fit for work, in the hope of getting a share of his
forage for the sake of auld lang syne. Those who know how the cavalry
soldier loves a horse that has carried him well will not need to be told
how hard Tommy found it to resist the appeal of a dumb comrade in
distress