enacted that “This country now being part of the Transvaal, the residents must within seven days leave their homes or enrol themselves as burghers.”  Nothing was mentioned about fighting, so all there complied with what was required—­namely, to sign their names on a blank sheet of paper.  By evening all had left for Mosita, as Mr. P. had also mentioned Mr. Keeley’s name in his unlucky note.  Three, however, remained to keep a watch on myself, and one of these, I regretted to observe, was the jovially-inclined Dietrich.  It can be imagined that our irritation with Mr. P. was great for having so foolishly mentioned names and places, and still more with the idiotic bird, the real origin of a very unpleasant two days.  I reflected that, if these were the tricks carrier-pigeons were wont to play, I greatly preferred the old nigger as a letter-carrier in wartime.

We were not to wait long for more developments.  Next day at dusk arrived a large cavalcade, which included Mr. Keeley, a prisoner.  He went on with his escort at daybreak, leaving us full of sympathy for his poor wife.  I sent by his bodyguard, under the command of another Dietrich, brother to the drunkard, who seemed a decent sort of man, a letter to General Snyman, begging for a pass into Mafeking to rejoin my husband.  Mr. Keeley told me their Intelligence Department was very perfect, as they had been aware of every one of my movements since I left Mafeking, and even of my rides during the last fortnight.  He also told me General Cronje and a great number of Boers had left Mafeking and trekked South.  This encouraged me in my belief that it would be better for me to be in that beleaguered town than to submit to the possible insults of Boer sentinels at Setlagoli.

The next day was Sunday, and in the morning returned the energetic Veldtcornet De Koker.  He had heard of my letter to Snyman, and, wishing to be important, had come to offer me a pass to the laager for a personal interview with the General, assuring me the latter was always very polite to ladies.  He even wished to escort me there that very day.  However, I had no mind to act hastily, so I made an excuse of the mules being away—­also that I did not like to travel on a Sunday.  This latter reason he fully appreciated, and arranged with me to come to his house the following day, for which purpose he left me a permit, vilely scrawled in Dutch.  I mentally reserved to myself the decision as to keeping the rendezvous.  We sat down to breakfast together, although, as he could speak no English and I could speak no Dutch, the conversation was nil.  He was pleased with the cigarette I offered him, and observed me with some curiosity, probably never having seen anything approaching an English lady previously.  Before he left, I complained, through an interpreter, of the insobriety of my self-constituted sentinel Dietrich, remarking it was quite impossible I could stand such a man dogging my footsteps much longer.  He promised to report the matter, and insisted on shaking hands with great cordiality.