their would-be succourers had been within six miles of them, and had then been obliged to fall back, may be better imagined than described. However sick with hope deferred some of the folk in the little town may have been, there was no feeling of despair in the heart of the man by whose genius and energy the defence was finally conducted to such a glorious issue. It is almost--perhaps entirely--beyond the powers of the stay-at-home, fireside-loving Englishman to comprehend the extraordinary strength of purpose and firmness of will shown by Baden-Powell during this historic siege. If one could realize what it must have meant to be shut up in Mafeking during all those weary months, with heavy responsibilities of various natures crowding upon one, and conducting all things to final victory, one might understand Baden-Powell. When the siege was over, he, with the modesty which is not the least charm of his character, strove to give praise to others, instead of allowing it to be showered solely upon himself. "Many nice things have been said about me at home," he remarked, "but it is an easy thing to be the figure-head of a ship." What sort of figure-head Baden-Powell was may be gathered from the following interesting sketch of him, extracted from a despatch of the special correspondent of the _Pall Mall Gazette_ during the last weeks of the siege:-- "He is a wonderfully tireless man, ever on the alert, ever with one eye on the enemy and the other divided between the town and that nightmare, the native stadt. Some say that he never sleeps, and I half believe the statement. I have frequently seen him myself at the peep-of-day crossing the veldt on his return to town after visiting all the works, with the customary tune on his lips; and half an hour afterwards he was on the roof with his glasses glued to his eyes, having an early look at the enemy. Later on he takes a constitutional walk up and down before his quarters like one doing sentry-go. An hour or so later he is on the stoep writing his diary, generally with his left hand, for with his wonderful foresight he has recognized that in pursuing his trade he may lose his right, and he does not wish to be left in the lurch. Again he is on the roof once more, having another look at the enemy, and if everything is particularly quiet, he trusts the look-out men and goes to his nook to dip into a novel or have a stretch under his mosquito curtain. I always know that he is there as I pass when I see a pair of tan boots sticking out. [Illustration: A Cape Boy Sentry.]