and thenceforward they were sold for songs—­ditties to the tune of thirty shillings.  Half-a-dozen horses were on one occasion sold for seven pounds—­animals that were worth a great deal more each.  The purchasers took risks of course.  But the booming of cannon was still to be heard in the land—­it boomed all the afternoon—­and the possibility of keeping the quadrupeds alive until the Column came to the rescue was not yet despaired of.

Saturday was the seventy-seventh day of our investment, with relief not yet in sight.  True, it was within hearing; but so it had been three weeks before, on Magersfontein day.  We were weary of this interminable thunder, which showed us no results.  Colonel Kekewich was as reticent as ever.  Of guesswork there was plenty.  Had Methuen not had time sufficiently to augment his forces to cut his way through.  The troops were in the country; we were placated with the information that they were “falling over one another in Cape Town.”  This comforting gem glittered less in our minds as the days sped past, and the prospects of a speedy liberation receded correspondingly.  The delay was to us incomprehensible.  We fell back on our old theory, that the more protracted the Siege the greater the fame and honour for the men to whose ’prentice hands had been committed the destinies of a free community.  It was hard to believe that these armed martinets could play with their responsibilities in such a crisis.  Did they realise its gravity?  Were facts being witheld?  Was the true and actual condition of the city as regards provisions and the contingencies to which their scarcity might lead—­were these things being properly represented to the public and to Sir Redvers Buller?  In our wisdom we feared not.  Scepticism and suspicion, born of disappointment, were in our hearts.  Our conclusions may not have been sound; we lacked a proper knowledge of the difficulties confronting the army; but we did feel that if the real state of affairs had been explicitly indicated to the Commander-in-Chief, a column would have reached Kimberley sooner.  We were not so far away from Orange River, where thousands of troops had been massing for weeks.  We were not so far out of the way as Mafeking.  Nor were we like the defenders of Ladysmith entombed within towering kopjes.  No; to snap our bonds was a relatively easy task.  Little provision had been made for a prolonged investment, and we had fifty thousand stomachs to cater for.  So much was plain.  If Kimberley were to be sacrificed to the “interests,” forsooth, of the campaign, British honour would be tarnished.  Such a procedure would be not only brutal, but a tactical blunder as well.  We felt strongly that the relief of Kimberley was an indispensable preliminary to success, and, by reason of our proximity to the Free State border, the way that would soonest bring the war to a successful issue—­