elligence of a more
agreeable nature followed soon after. Cronje's repulse at Mafeking, and
the British victory at Glencoe, made us hopeful at the end of a week,
the beginning of which had looked so ominous; and nearly all things were
to our satisfaction on Saturday night when the third part of our "time"
had formally expired.

CHAPTER II

_Week ending 28th October, 1899_

After a hard and anxious week, Sunday was indeed a day of rest. We
enjoyed it because we felt instinctively that an enemy who sincerely
believed that Providence was necessarily on his side, would leave us
unmolested on the Sabbath. We were therefore justified in feeling a
sense of immunity from stray shells and bullets. We enjoyed the day,
too, because it gave us time and opportunity to look about us; to make a
general inspection; and to pronounce the arrangements for the city's
defence satisfactory. The volunteer forces had assumed gratifying
proportions, and their eyes were all "right." Walls and buildings on the
outskirts of the town, which might serve as a cover for the invader--in
the improbable event of his drawing so near--or that might stand within
the zone of our gun-fire, had been ruthlessly levelled to the ground. A
high barbed wire fence surrounded the various camps, and the vigilant
piquet had orders to shoot down anybody who attempted to cross it. Every
imaginable precaution had been taken to hold the fort at all costs. The
rumour-monger had formally made his _debut_, and was busy drawing upon
the reservoirs of his excellent imagination, and disseminating
information gathered from a mystic source known only to himself. He knew
the exact day and hour of the entrance into Kimberley of the British
troops; he could detail their plans to the letter, and a lot more than
anybody else (including the British troops) concerning them. The
rumour-monger became a character, a siege character, an adventitious
celebrity, destined to receive attention from a facetious press and the
tongues of men. So the day passed, with plenty to encourage, plenty to
talk and laugh about, plenty to predict about, plenty to see and hear,
and as yet, thank goodness, plenty to eat and drink.

Early on Monday morning, a mounted detachment, accompanied by the
armoured train and two hundred men of the Lancashire Regiment, went
forth to reconnoitre. The procession was an imposing one; at least the
Boers encamped at Scholtz's Nek appeared to think so; they made no