All through the weary hours of that perfect summer’s day the rifles never ceased firing.  Sometimes a regular fusillade for ten minutes or so; then, as if tired out, sinking down to a few single shots, while the siren-like whistle and sharp explosion of the shells from the high-velocity gun continued intermittently, and added to the dangers of the streets.  So the hours dragged on.  All the time the wildest rumours pervaded the air.  Now the Boers had possession of the whole stadt; again, as soon as night fell, large reinforcements were to force their way in.  Of course we knew the Colonel was all the while maturing his plans to rid the town of the unbidden guests, but what these were no one could tell.  About 8 p.m., when we were in the depth of despair, we got an official message to say that the Boers in the stadt had been surrounded and taken prisoners, and also that the fort had surrendered to Colonel Hore, who, with some of his officers, had been all day in the curious position of captives in their own barracks.  Of course our delight and thankfulness knew no bounds.  In spite of the dead and dying patients, those who were slightly wounded or convalescent gave a feeble cheer, which was a pathetic sound.  We further heard that the prisoners, in number about a hundred, including Commandant Eloff, their leader, were then being marched through the town to the Masonic Hall, followed by a large crowd of jeering and delighted natives.  Two of the nurses and myself ran over to look at them, and I never saw a more motley crew.  In the dim light of a few oil-lamps they represented many nationalities, the greater part laughing, joking, and even singing, the burghers holding themselves somewhat aloof, but the whole community giving one the idea of a body of men who knew they had got out of a tight place, and were devoutly thankful still to have whole skins.  Eloff and three principal officers were accommodated at Mr. Weil’s house, having previously dined with the Colonel and Staff.  At 6 a.m.  Sunday morning we were awakened by three shells bursting close by, one after the other.  I believe no one was more frightened than Eloff; but he told us that it was a preconcerted signal, and that, if they had been in possession of the town, they were to have answered by rifle-fire, when the Boers would have marched in.  These proved to be the last shells that were fired into Mafeking.

The same morning at breakfast I sat opposite to Commandant Eloff, who was the President’s grandson, and had on my right a most polite French officer, who could not speak a word of English, Dutch, or German, so it was difficult to understand how he made himself understood by his then companions-in-arms.  In strong contrast to this affable and courteous gentleman was Eloff, of whom we had heard so much as a promising Transvaal General.  A typical Boer of the modern school, with curiously unkempt hair literally standing on end, light sandy whiskers, and a small moustache,