These proved to be the last shells that were fired into Mafeking.
The same morning at breakfast I sat opposite to Commandant Eloff, who was the President's grandson, and had on my right a most polite French officer, who could not speak a word of English, Dutch, or German, so it was difficult to understand how he made himself understood by his then companions-in-arms.

In strong contrast to this affable and courteous gentleman was Eloff, of whom we had heard so much as a promising Transvaal General.

A typical Boer of the modern school, with curiously unkempt hair literally standing on end, light sandy whiskers, and a small moustache, he was wearing a sullen and dejected expression on his by no means stupid, but discontented and unprepossessing, face.

This scion of the Kruger family did not scruple to air his grievances or disclose his plans with regard to the struggle of the previous day.

That he was brilliantly assisted by the French and German freelances was as surely demonstrated as the fact of his having been left more or less in the lurch by his countrymen when they saw that to get into Mafeking was one thing, but to stay there or get out of it again was quite a different matter.