Commandant Eloff smokes and reads and talks. Sometimes he becomes abstracted, and again upon Sundays he is dejected. As I had the pleasure of meeting him in the British South Africa Police Fort upon May 12th, the occasion upon which he captured me, I called upon him in the gaol. He was pacing the courtyard, but he stopped and smiled when he saw me, and as I saluted him he held out his hand. "My prisoner," said he, amiably. "The fortunes of war," said I, and he waved a hand in the air as he accepted a cigarette. His costume was free and comfortable. He wore a brown jersey, a pair of riding breeches, and slippers. The jersey fitted him, and he seemed to take some pains in showing the physical development of his shoulders. His arms also were strong, and with every move of his body his muscles quivered. He was lithe, supple and active, and as he stood there with the whitewashed walls of the gaol behind him, with his companions around him, and a guard upon each of the four walls which enclosed the courtyard, an air of romance clung to him and he might have been for the moment some creation of Anthony Hope, casting in his mind for some entrancing but desperate situation. He puffed my cigarette vigorously and began a conversation. "You know," said he, "I don't like horseflesh." "I am sorry," said I, "but you should have taken Mafeking before." "We shall have it yet," said a man at the table, whereupon the Commandant shrugged his shoulders and threw the end of his cigarette somewhat petulantly from him. "If," said I. "Ah," said the Commandant, and there was a pause in which we all laughed. He looked at me for a moment as though he thought. "It is possible," said he, and he punctuated his words with little nods. As he finished Captain de Fremont joined us. "My God," said he; "you English." Eloff laughed. "Do not let us make this Fashoda," said he. "Yes, it is possible," he began again, "and I think we should have captured your town, but Snyman----" he paused and spat. "I wish to God you would make Snyman a prisoner," said he. The conversation had become interesting, and I passed my cigarette case around again. It returned to me empty, but Commandant Eloff had begun to smoke a pipe. "Are not you Dutchmen tired of the war?" said I; "the end, after all, is inevitable." Captain de Fremont spoke again. He twisted his cigarette between his fingers and remarked with an air of incisive inanity, "Life and death are inevitable." "And the English," said Commandant Eloff, whereupon I laughed. The Commandant once more took up the thread of the conversation. "We attacked you because it seemed to me that you had relaxed your vigilance. How could we otherwise have pierced your lines?" His view was right--at least I thought so. "We expected you," said I. The Commandant shook his head and looked at me somewhat quizzingly. After all it was a palpable lie. "No," said he; "you should at least allow us that amount of energy. You did not expect us,