CHAPTER XII.
LIFE IN A BESIEGED TOWN (_continued_) "And so we sat tight."-- _Despatch from Mafeking to War Office._ February came and went without producing very much change in our circumstances, and yet, somehow, there was a difference observable as the weeks passed.

People looked graver; a tired expression was to be noted on many hitherto jovial countenances; the children were paler and more pinched.

Apart from the constant dangers of shells and stray bullets, and the knowledge that, when we were taking leave of any friend for a few hours, it might be the last farewell on earth--apart from these facts, which constituted a constant wear and tear of mind, the impossibility of making any adequate reply to our enemy's bombardment gradually preyed on the garrison.

By degrees, also, our extreme isolation seemed to come home to us, and not a few opined that relief would probably never come, and that Mafeking would needs have to be sacrificed for the greater cause of England's final triumph.

Since Christmas black "runners" had contrived to pass out of the town with cables, bringing us on their return scrappy news and very ancient newspapers.