On the Rhodesian side were other grand specimens of British manhood. There was first the colonel--bronzed, dark-eyed, meditative--a man who without display had skirmished his way along the border-side from Tuli downwards, keeping the Boers in eternal suspense and so perpetually employed that they were unable to gain breathing time to concentrate their energies on Mafeking. Next came Colonel White, one of the bulwarks of Rhodesia; an adventurous spirit of the first order, an unerring shot, and, like most of his comrades, a chip of the old British block that furnished the material of the Light Brigade. There were Colonel Spreckley, a seasoned and notable fighter, alas! engaging in almost his last exploit, and Colonel Bodle of the British South Africa Police, a tower of strength, with vast experience of the western frontier of the Transvaal, and the necessary "slimness"--cultivated in a practical school--without which the handling of live eels like the Boers was impossible. There were Major Bird, another gallant and indefatigable officer; Lieutenant Harland, bright, blue-eyed, and buoyant, a typical British soldier; and Lieutenant Smitheman, valiant as Mettus Curtius and acute as a weazel--the first officer who had been successful in worming himself into Mafeking and out again! Colonel Mahon's force had been travelling at the rate of twenty-two miles a day over sandy tracks and waterless deserts, and skirmishing by the way. They were, by now, very sun-baked and weary, but jovial beyond measure. In the evening camp-fires were lighted and goodly fare roasted, the flesh of captured oxen coming in handy to appease the appetite of the voracious travellers. It was a grand night of rest and plenty and cheeriness at the thought of work accomplished, and of plans which promised to end in triumph over the enemy. A spirit of _camaraderie_ prevailed. All alike were tingling with the glow of ambition which hatches heroes. It was an unique company--an inter-British-national throng, and vastly interesting in its heterogeneous characteristics. The Bushmen were perhaps the most curious and refreshing type of the Imperial Brotherhood. Every one with an appreciation for the genuine was swift to pronounce them delightful fellows, sound in wind and limb, full of go, spirited and keen for work of any kind that came to hand. In addition to this they were friendly and hospitable, would share their last chunk of "bully" with any one who was suffering from a vacuum, and had the "nous" to forage for themselves and find their way about in the veldt in a manner that excited as much admiration as surprise. They could ride too. They sat a buckjumper as a child sits a swing, and seemed to be horsemasters as it were by instinct. Full to overflowing with loyalty, they talked of home and Queen as though they had been born on the steps of Buckingham Palace. They were democratic withal. Their loyalty was to the superb, the estimable, and the Queen to them was the