from Commandant Snyman had then
come solemnly into the town under a flag of truce, to demand an
unconditional surrender "to avoid further bloodshed." Colonel
Baden-Powell politely replied that, as far as he was concerned,
operations had not begun. The messenger was given refreshment at Dixon's
Hotel, where lunch was laid out as usual. This had astonished him
considerably, as presumably he had expected to find but few survivors.
He was then sent about his business. Gordon, who imagined me at
Setlagoli, concluded his letter by saying the Colonel had informed
General Cronje of my presence at Mrs. Fraser's, and begged him to leave
me unmolested. This news, which had come by a _Daily Mail_
correspondent, on his way South to send off cables, was satisfactory as
far as it went, and we at once despatched a trusty old nigger called
Boaz with a tiny note, folded microscopically in an old cartridge-case,
to give the garrison news of the surrounding country. This old man
proved a reliable and successful messenger. On many occasions he
penetrated the cordon into the beleaguered town, and during the first
two months he was practically the sole means they had of receiving
news. His task was of course a risky one, and we used to pay him L3 each
way, but he never failed us.

Now commenced a fresh period of anxious waiting, and during this time I
had leisure and opportunity to study the characteristics of these Boer
farmers and their wives, and to learn what a curious race they are. Mrs.
Keeley told me a great deal of their ideas, habits, and ways, in which
low cunning is combined with extreme curiosity and naive simplicity.
Many of the fathers and sons in the neighbourhood had slunk off to fight
across the border, sending meanwhile their wives and daughters to call
on Mrs. Keeley and condole with her in what they termed "her trouble,"
and to ascertain at the same time all the circumstances of the farm and
domestic circle. A curious thing happened one day. Directly after
breakfast an old shandrydan drove up with a typical Dutch family as
occupants. Mrs. Keeley, busy with household matters, pulled a long face,
knowing what was before her. No questions as to being at home,
disengaged, or follies of that sort, were asked; the horses were
solemnly outspanned and allowed to roam; the family party had come to
spend the day. Seated gravely in the dining-room, they were refreshed by
coffee and cold meat. Mrs. Keeley remarked to me privately tha