like every other, make four of two and two.

In the distance the cannon kept booming intermittently; nothing but
boom. Our besiegers' guns were being used to check the advance of
Methuen. There remained only one piece of ordnance, nicknamed "Old
Susannah," to keep Kimberley in order. The Premier Mine was the
recipient of some lumps of love from this amorous gipsy; but nobody was
smitten by her charms.

The death of the Mayor of Beaconsfield was announced in the afternoon.
In him the Town Guard lost a capable captain, and Kimberley a worthy
citizen. Saturday was Dingaan's day--a sad reminder of the rejoicings
associated with the anniversary, and which had to be skipped for once.
Despite the prevailing glumness, however, the populace turned out to
patronise a gymkhana entertainment at the Light Horse camp. The bands of
the two regiments contributed musical selections; admission was free
(which accounted for a packed "house"); but when the hat was artfully
passed round for our charity we winced, and were only partially
satisfied that it was at our discretion surreptitiously to put in it
what we would from a button to a shilling.

Amid such _gala_ surroundings the week ended. We were still in the dark,
the doings of the Column were yet enveloped in mystery. The thunder of
its artillery had lost its charm, and indeed a great deal of its noise.
Dame Rumour, the lying jade, was saying nasty things, but
downhearted--what! not much! The last flash on Saturday night was from a
_manufactured_ gem. The Boer Army was in Cape Town, if you please!--with
their guns on Table Mountain--and all the Britons in the sea--swimming
home to dear old England! Well, no matter; Kimberley would fight on,
constitute a "new Capital," perhaps, or fall, if fate ordained it, with
its face to the foe.

CHAPTER X

_Week ending 23d December, 1899_

Everything was going from bad to worse, and though the tropical weather
was not conducive to heartiness of appetite the dishes on our tables
were distressing. To attempt to compute the countless creature comforts
missing at this stage of our sorrows would be ridiculous; nor do I
propose inflicting on the reader a reiteration of what remained to keep
body and soul together. Discussion on the Column and its catering
potentialities had come to be proscribed, and lamentations over the
sufferings of the inner man were as bitter as if all hope of alleviation
had vanished for ever and hunger was to be o