It goes without saying that Baden-Powell has had plenty of adventures and excitement out of his love of scouting. How often his life has been in such danger that it was apparently not worth a moment's purchase, it is probable he himself does not know. But if there is anybody who knows what an extraordinarily watchful life it is that has thus risked itself a thousand times, it is the Matabele against whom Baden-Powell brought his keen senses to bear during the campaign of 1896, and who conferred upon him a sobriquet which is likely to stick to him as long as his old nickname of "Bathing-Towel," or the modern "B.-P." of admiring crowds. Writing of his work during July, 1896 ("The Matabele Campaign," p. 127-8), he says: "Many of the strongholds to which I had at first learned the way with patrols, I have now visited again by myself at nights, in order to further locate the positions of their occupants. In this way I have actually got to know the country and the way through it better by night than by day, that is to say, by certain landmarks and leading stars whose respectively changed appearance or absence in daylight is apt to be misleading. The enemy, of course, often see me, but are luckily very suspicious, and look upon me as a bait to some trap, and are therefore slow to come at me. They often shout to me; and yesterday my boy, who was with my horse, told me they were shouting to each other that 'Impeesa' was there--i.e., 'The Wolf,' or, as he translated it, the beast, that does not sleep, but sneaks about at night." Since then a good many folk have learnt much of the Wolf that does not sleep. But if this same sleepless Wolf were asked if there had not been many compensations for his sneaking about at night, he would probably be able to say that for every moment of anxiety he had spent a thousand of satisfaction. To how many men leading hum-drum stay-at-home lives is it ever granted to see one such picture as that Baden-Powell records in his journal under date July 29th, 1896? ("The Matabele Campaign," p. 175.) "To-day, when out scouting by myself, being at some distance from my boy and the horses, I lay for a short rest and a quiet look-out among some rocks and grass overlooking a little stream; and I saw a charming picture. Presently there was a slight rattle of trinkets, and a swish of the tall yellow grass, followed by the sudden apparition of a naked Matabele warrior standing glistening among the rocks of the streamlet, within thirty yards of me. His white war ornaments--the ball of clipped feathers on his brow, and the long white cow's-tail plumes which depended from his arms and knees--contrasted strongly with his rich brown skin. His kilt of wild cat-skins and monkeys' tails swayed round his loins. His left hand bore his assegais and knobkerrie beneath the great dapple ox-hide shield; and, in his right, a yellow walking-staff.