Commandant Snyman had prophesied that when he did begin to bombard Mafeking English heads would roll on the veldt like marbles. Mafeking had no artillery to speak of, so no wonder that many hearts felt uneasy tremors as the fatal Monday drew near. Yet curiosity ofttimes overcame fear, and many coigns of vantage were chosen by those who wished to climb up and see the gory sport. The bombardment began at 9.15 a.m., and the first shell sank in a sand-heap, and forgot to explode. The second and third fell short, but not very short. Then came shell after shell, falling into street or backyard, and exploding with a bang. Numbers rushed to find out what damage had been done. Then grins stole across surprised faces: the area of damage was about 3 square feet. Three shells fell into the hospital, luckily doing no harm to anyone. After some hours of terrible, thundering cannon-fire, it suddenly ceased. The garrison counted up their casualties. Three buildings had been struck--the hospital, the monastery, and Riesle’s Hotel; one life had been taken--it was a pullet that had never yet laid an egg! [Illustration: THE BOERS, TAKEN BY SURPRISE, WERE UNSTEADY AND PANIC-STRUCK An incident during the siege of Mafeking, when the British had sapped their way to within eighty yards of the Boer position.] Shortly after this bill of butchery had been presented the Boer General sent an emissary to Colonel Baden-Powell. “Commandant Snyman presents his compliments, and desires to know if, to save further bloodshed, the English would now surrender.” Baden-Powell is a great actor; he never smiled as he replied: “Tell the Commandant, with my compliments, that we have not yet begun.” But a few days later the Boers were seen to be very active on the veldt about three miles from the town, and the rumour spread that they had sent to Pretoria for siege guns. The townsfolk stood in groups and discussed the new peril. About noon next day the red flag flew from head-quarters. Presently a great cloud of smoke rose on the skyline; then came a rush of air, a roar as of some great bird flying, a terrific concussion, and then flying fragments of steel buried themselves in distant buildings, creating a sense of terror throughout the town. “Mafeking is doomed!” was the general cry that afternoon; those alone who had dug themselves deep pits were fairly comfortable in their minds. The second shot of the big Creusot gun wrecked the rear of the Mafeking Hotel, and the force of the explosion hurled the war correspondent of the _Chronicle_ upon a pile of wood. Next day more than 200 shells were thrown into Mafeking, which was saved by its mud walls; where bricks would have been shattered and shaken, these walls only threw out a cloud of dust.