Owing to the rains having then begun, and being occasionally very heavy, the bomb-proofs were becoming unhealthy.

My throat was daily getting worse, and the doctor decided that Gordon and myself had better also be removed to the convent, hoping that being above-ground might help recovery in both our cases.

There was heavy shelling going on that afternoon, and the drive to our new quarters, on the most exposed and extreme edge of the town, was attended with some excitement.

I could scarcely swallow, and Gordon was so weak he could hardly walk even the short distance we had to compass on foot.

However, we arrived in safety, and were soon made comfortable in this strange haven of rest.
As I have before written, the convent in Mafeking was from the commencement of the bombardment picked out by the enemy as a target, and during the first week it was hit by certainly ten or twelve projectiles, and reduced more or less to a ruined state.