eking had become a prize of victory, a stake
which should be the visible sign of the predominating manhood of one
or other of the great white races of South Africa. Unconscious of
the keenness of the emotions which they had aroused, the garrison
manufactured brawn from horsehide, and captured locusts as a relish for
their luncheons, while in the shot-torn billiard-room of the club an
open tournament was started to fill in their hours off duty. But their
vigilance, and that of the hawk-eyed man up in the Conning Tower, never
relaxed. The besiegers had increased in number, and their guns were
more numerous than before. A less acute man than Baden-Powell might have
reasoned that at least one desperate effort would be made by them to
carry the town before relief could come.

On Saturday, May 12th, the attack was made at the favourite hour of the
Boer--the first grey of the morning. It was gallantly delivered by about
three hundred volunteers under the command of Eloff, who had crept
round to the west of the town--the side furthest from the lines of the
besiegers. At the first rush they penetrated into the native quarter,
which was at once set on fire by them. The first building of any size
upon that side is the barracks of the Protectorate Regiment, which was
held by Colonel Hore and about twenty of his officers and men. This was
carried by the enemy, who sent an exultant message along the telephone
to Baden-Powell to tell him that they had got it. Two other positions
within the lines, one a stone kraal and the other a hill, were held by
the Boers, but their supports were slow in coming on, and the movements
of the defenders were so prompt and energetic that all three found
themselves isolated and cut off from their own lines. They had
penetrated the town, but they were as far as ever from having taken it.
All day the British forces drew their cordon closer and closer round the
Boer positions, making no attempt to rush them, but ringing them round
in such a way that there could be no escape for them. A few burghers
slipped away in twos and threes, but the main body found that they had
rushed into a prison from which the only egress was swept with rifle
fire. At seven o'clock in the evening they recognised that their
position was hopeless, and Eloff with 117 men laid down their arms.
Their losses had been ten killed and nineteen wounded. For some reason,
either of lethargy, cowardice, or treachery, Snyman had not brought up