roken nights. He has
an enthusiasm for hard work, and when that work demands cunning of the
brain as well as quickness of the hand, as in scouting, B.-P. is as
much lost in the labour as a wolf in search of food for its young.
Never throughout the Matabele campaign was Sir Frederick Carrington
better served than when the young Englishman slunk away into the
darkness, and wandered alone and unprotected into the rocky mountains
held by the murderous Matabele. And never were those savages more
disquieted than when news was brought to them in the morning that the
Wolf had been in the mountains during the night.
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES:
[1] After the arm was amputated at the shoulder Mr. Gifford used to
feel the pain as if it were in his hand.
[2] Let it not be thought that B.-P. had neglected to bring
stretchers. They were brought, but the friendlies who carried them,
like the hen that laid the rotten egg, were nervous, and had dropped
them in the river, they themselves taking up positions of safety till
the fighting was over.
CHAPTER XI
IN RAGS AND TATTERS
Baden-Powell now had what one might term a roving commission. He was
sent by Colonel Plumer in charge of a patrol to wander over the vast
country covered by the rebellion and see what he could of the enemy,
and when found make a note of. It was exactly the work B.-P. liked
above all others. There was romance in the dangers of it, and
intellectual joy in its difficulties. There was freedom in it, and the
glorious feeling that every step he took he was carrying his life in
his hand. And not only was life menaced by the bullets and assegais of
Matabele lurking in the tall yellow grass, but there was considerable
danger, though of a more humorous order, even in the taking of a bath,
as B.-P. discovered in going down to a pool and spotting just in time
a leering crocodile in the reeds. Lions, too, were stumbled upon in
clumps, just as in peaceful England one walks upon a covey of
partridges. Then, lying down one day after dinner for a nap, B.-P.
discovered on awaking that a snake had selected precisely the same
spot for its own siesta. The charm of night marches, too, was
occasionally broken by the growling of a bloodthirsty hyaena, following
and snarling at the heels of the horses. These were dangers, however,
that added the few touches necessary to complete the picture of our
smart adjutant of Hussars in cowboy hat, grey f
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