ntain had not returned, and Baden-Powell with a patrol of
a hundred men was ordered to go in search. When the sun was up the
little body moved off towards the mountains, and after passing through
much difficult country, parts of which were actually in the occupation
of the enemy, they struck the spoor of the missing column, and to
Baden-Powell's great joy found that the marks were quite fresh and
leading outwards from the mountains--showing that the missing men
were safe. Very soon after that the patrol was further cheered by
seeing the gleam of the column's camp-fires, and after an exchange of
events Baden-Powell hurried back to camp to acquaint the General with
the good news.

The next morning, forgetting that he had had another night out,
Baden-Powell started off for solitary exercise in the mountains, his
purpose being to "investigate some signs I had noted two days before
of an impi camped in a new place," and to select a position for the
building of a fort to command the Matopos. Returning to camp he drew
his design and plan for the fort, and in the evening was back in the
mountains again with a number of Cape Boys, ready to begin the
business of building.

One of Baden-Powell's little relaxations when fighting slackened was
the "rounding off" of cattle, a sport almost as exciting as chasing a
solitary boar, especially when the cattle are being driven into the
mountains for "home consumption" by bloodthirsty and hungry Matabele.
On one of these occasions Baden-Powell was wounded. Having rounded off
some cattle he was riding towards a party of niggers when he felt a
sharp blow on his thigh as though Thor had given him a playful tap
with his big hammer. He was bowled over, and thinking that he must
have charged into the stump of a tree turned round to have a look at
it; but there was no tree. Then he realised that he had only been
struck with a lead-covered stone fired from a big-bore gun, and so
hopped off like a man who has been kicked on the shins in a football
match, to continue the game. No blood was drawn by this bullet, but
our hero's thigh was black and blue for many days afterwards.

This was the kind of life Baden-Powell lived at this time as Chief of
the Staff. An officer who knows him very well tells me that it is
impossible to wear him out; "Baden-Powell," he says, "is tireless." He
is keen to be given the most risky and the most solitary work; he can
go for days without food and never complains of b