themselves in hot haste to their posts. But the Boers were only joking;
they retired after an out-of-range demonstration of pugnacity. The
citizen soldiers went back to "bed," but ere their winks had totalled
forty they were again roused by the sacred goose-cackie of the hooters
and again running to their trenches. The scenes in the streets were
pretty similar to the pictures of the day before. We waited six hours,
in expectation that "the hope which shone through them would blossom at
last." It was all in vain; the Boers--incorrigible humourists--would not
be serious, or draw close enough to be shot at. It was suggested that
the hooters told them a march was not to be stolen on us; hence so many
postponements of the "fall" of Kimberley. The sound, the weirdness of
the hooters in itself, would keep back a braver foe. We wanted them
silenced, however, and were beginning actually to desire a fight. All
the hardships of active service, _minus_ its real excitement, were ours;
and the cadets of the Town Guard--who cared not whether they lived to be
one-and-twenty--were dying to fire and definitely to learn from the
"kick" of a gun whether there was really "nothing like leather."

Other things contributed to the eventfulness of Saturday; the Boers
continued to display the same ominous energy, digging trenches, erecting
forts, and making themselves generally comfortable--pending our
submission to the inevitable like practical men. To emphasise the wisdom
of surrender on our part, it was freely stated that the town was to be
bombarded from Kamfers Dam. There was a feeling--it was in the air--that
mischief was brewing. In obedience to a sudden order, the women and
children of Otto's Kopje and the West End were hurried into the city for
better protection. Finally, a letter from the Boer Commandant was
received by the Colonel, the contents of which went far to justify the
feeling of anxiety which was abroad.