“After the treaty had been signed, the old chief requested that prayer might be offered up, which was accordingly done by a native minister.  The satisfaction of the great event was further marked by the discharge of a volley from the rifles of a company of young men told off for the purpose; and the old cannon of Montsioa, mounted between the wheels of an ox-waggon, was also brought into requisition to proclaim the general joy and satisfaction.

“But alas! such feelings were destined to be of short duration.  While we were thus employed at Mafeking, the openly-declared enemies of the Imperial Government, and of peace and order in Bechuanaland, had been at their appropriate work elsewhere within the Protectorate.  Before sunset the same evening, I was surprised to hear the Bechuana war cry sounded in Montsioa’s Town, and shortly afterwards I saw the old chief approaching my waggon, followed by a large body of men.

“‘Monare Makence!’ (Mr. Mackenzie), ’the cattle have been lifted by the Boers,’ was his first announcement.  I shall never forget the scene at that moment.  The excitement of the men, some of whom were reduced to poverty by what had taken place, and also their curiosity as to what step I should take, were plainly enough revealed on the faces of the crowd who, with their chief, now stood before me.

“‘Mr. Mackenzie,’ said Montsioa, ’you are master now, you must say what is to be done.  We shall be obedient to your orders.’  ’We have put our names on your paper, but the Boers have our cattle all the same,’ said one man.

Another shouted out with vehemence, ’please don’t tell us to go on respecting the boundary line.  Why should we do so when the Boers don’t?’

‘Who speaks about a boundary line?’ said another speaker, probably a heavy loser.  ‘Is it a thing that a man can eat?  Where are our cattle?’

“As I have already said, I shall never forget the scene in which these and similar speeches were made at my waggon as the sun went down peacefully—­the sun which had witnessed the treaty-signing and the rejoicings at Mafeking.  Its departing rays now saw the cattle of the Barolong safe in the Transvaal, and the Barolong owners and Her Majesty’s Deputy Commissioner looking at one another, at Mafeking."[32]

Mr. Mackenzie then resolved what to do, and announced that he would at once cross the boundary and go himself to the nearest Transvaal town to demand redress.  There was a hum of approval, with a sharp enquiry from Montsioa,—­did he really mean to go himself?  “Having no one to send, I must go myself,” Mackenzie replied.  The old Chief, in a generous way, half dissuaded him from the attempt.  “The Boers cannot be trusted.  What shall I say if you do not return?” “All right, Montsioa,” replied Mackenzie, “say I went of my own accord.  I will leave my wife under your care.”

“Poor old fellow,” writes Mackenzie, “brave-hearted, though ’only a native,’ he went away full of heaviness, promising me his cart and harness, and an athletic herd as a driver, to start early next morning.”