Boy Scouts Beyond the Seas: Chapter I.

ANY boy who has read stories of adventures by sea in the sailing-ship days knows the "Roaring Forties"; they are the latitudes in which the westerly gales send the ships going on their way from the Cape of Good Hope to Australia, about the fortieth degree of latitude in the Southern Hemisphere.

Coming the other way as we did, from Australia for South Africa, our ship steered north a bit, and we soon ran out of the cold and boisterous sea into the calmer and sunnier waters of the thirtieth parallel; and. running along this for some days we found ourselves, after a delightful voyage, off Durban one fine sunny morning.

Several things combined to make our voyage pleasant, for in addition to fine weather, we had a splendid ship, the Themistocles. We had a very happy and cheery lot of fellow-passengers, and we also had a large contingent of bluejackets and marines belonging to H.M. ships on the Australian station, and a very nice scout-like crowd they were-smart, well-disciplined, and cheery handymen.

Among other things (which Scouts ought to be able to do) they made their own clothes. They cut out the cloth according to patterns made of paper, and then neatly sewed them together, sometimes by machine, sometimes by hand. One of them, as you see from the sketch overleaf, had a parrot to advise him.

People are always asking me which is the finer harbour, Rio Janeiro or Sydney, and I generally answer "Table Bay." For I think that though Rio is the most beautiful and Sydney the prettiest, Capetown with its open sweep of Table Bay and the mighty mountain above it strikes one as the finest.

On the next page is a sketch of the place as seen on entering the bay. Though I have lived there for three years, and have visited it again and again, I am never tired of seeing it, and don't mind how soon I go back again!

Behind the city of Capetown rises a great granite wall or mountain some 4000 feet in height, quite flat along the top-and this is Table Mountain. On the left of it as seen from Table Bay there stands a peak as if broken off from it by some giant's hand; this is called the Devil's Peak, and there's a story to it.

Sometimes upon the clearest day a little wisp of cloud will be seen hanging on the top of Table Mountain, and this will grow and grow till soon it covers all the top with a long, flat sheet of white —which stays for hours, always to be followed later on by violent wind and storm from the south-east. This cloud is called "the tablecloth." Sometimes it gets more loose and covers all the mountain up in clouds.

The mountain on the right is called the Lion, since it is just the shape of a lion lying down. On the " Lion's Rump " is the signal station from which all ships are signalled as they come in sight.

It was here that the British first hoisted the flag and proclaimed the whole country to be under our King. That was in 1652, when the fine old salt Captain Shilling, and Humphrey FitzHerbert, brought their fleet of six ships into Table Bay on the way to India. The fleet belonged to the East India Company, which was afterwards to become so great in India. But though the Cape thus became a British possession, and was thenceforward regularly visited by British ships, we did not colonise it.

Twenty years after Shilling came a fleet belonging to the Dutch East India Company under the gallant old Dutchman Van Riebeck. He paid no attention to the place having been called British, but started to make a Dutch settlement.

For twelve years, with a few colonists, he struggled against bad harvests acid thieving natives, till he succeeded in making a thriving little colony of it. He was followed by the Van der Stels, father and son, who continued his good work, and also spread their boundaries farther afield inland. The thriving district of Stellenbosch was started by Van der Stel. The old castle now in the centre of the city (and where I had my home for a long time) was built by Van der Stel.

A good many English had meanwhile come to the Cape and taken to farming and trading there.

Then the French, who had occupied Mauritius, came and tried to take the Cape; but the British, who were then allies of the Dutch in Europe, sent an expedition against them.

But there was disagreement between the Cape Dutch, some being in favour of the French and others against, and when the British fleet and troops arrived at Simon's Bay they found themselves opposed by the people they had come to help—acting with the French.

So the British had to fight their way to Capetown, having a battle at Muizenberg and another at Wynberg, places which are now happy suburbs of Capetown. And once more the British flag was hoisted there.

In 1800, however, under the Peace of Amiens, we gave; the Cape back to the Dutch. But it was only for a few years, for in 1806 there was war again, and a strong British fleet under Admiral Popham, with the grand old Highlander Sir David Bain, in command of the troops, sailed in and attacked the Dutch under Janssen and took Capetown once more.

Even while the terms of peace were being signed, the English were already making friends with their late opponents. A band had struck up the National Anthem, but the General at once stopped it as he did not want to hurt the feelings of the Dutch by any show of triumph. Such of them as wished to go he sent home to Holland with their arms and belongings, treating them as brave and valiant men, not as defeated foes.

Within four years Britons and Boers were fighting side by side against the Kaffirs as close friends and allies.

I visited Port Elizabeth and the neighbouring port of East London on the cast coast of South Africa to see the Boy Scouts at each. They were promising-looking troops. And they have proved themselves tough fellows like their fathers before them.

I am sure their brother Scouts in every part of the Empire will be proud of them. A small town called Alice comes within the Port Elizabeth district, and this is what the Alice Scouts did.

A farmer, Mr. Julius Schmidt, was driving home from market with his family in a pair-horsed cart. When fording the river near his home, one of the horses slipped and fell. The cart was overturned and the whole party were washed by the rush of the stream into deep water. Mrs. Schmidt, with her baby, managed to struggle to the bank, but could see no sign of her husband or the other child. The poor woman could do nothing till a neighbouring farmer happened to come along and found her almost distracted. He immediately got help and the river was searched as far as possible before dark, but it was not till next morning that the body of the child was found.

Then search parties worked the river looking for Mr. Schmidt, but without success. Eventually a request was sent that the Boy Scouts might come and help.

A detachment of twelve Scouts under their patrol leader came out to the spot, and after doing splendid work in the cold water for many hours they succeeded in recovering the body.

I have already alluded to the "tough forefathers" of the Scouts of this part of Africa. Here is a short account of how they proved their toughness. The natives of the south-eastern part of South Africa were for a great many years a thorn in the side of both Boer and British farmers; they used to make raids on the farmers' cattle, often murdering the whites in most cold-blooded and wholesale manner.

This brought the farmers and troops together against them in 1811 under Colonel Graham.

At Slachters Nek, the Boer Stockenstrom and fourteen of his men were treacherously murdered by the natives during a parley in which the whites were trying to make peace with them. This, of course, drew down heavy punishment on them.

The natives of these parts are called Kaffirs, which name was originally given to them by Arab traders, who applied it to anyone who was not a believer in their Mohammedan religion, and the name has stuck to them ever since, even to their country being called Kaffraria.

In 1819 the Kaffirs made a big attack on the British settlement of Grahamstown, but the place was well defended by the 38th Regiment, ably assisted by a Hottentot hunter, Boezai, and a hundred of his men. The fighting was heavy, and the Kaffirs attacked with the greatest boldness; but in the end they were driven back into headlong flight, leaving some 2000 of their numbers dead on the field.

They were followed up into their own country by a strong force of British troops and Burghers working together. The latter were under Andres Stockenstrom, the son of the commandant who had been murdered eight years before. The natives were thus completely cowed; their chief was made a prisoner and taken to Robben Island, and the country resumed its peaceful pursuits once more.

Large numbers of emigrants began to come out from England to people the land, and farming became popular and paying. Large tracts of wild country were brought under cultivation, and the new-comers were helped to make a good start by the acting Governor, Sir Rufane Donkin.

Algoa Bay was where they landed, and a town soon sprang up, and Sir Rufane Donkin busied himself very much in its making.

One reason for his great activity was that he had recently lost his young wife, who had died in India, and he sought relief from his trouble in doing extra hard work. So it was that as the town grew up and began to need a name, he called it Port Elizabeth after his dead wife—for that was her name.

A few years later, when the country was becoming settled, and a large number of happy homesteads were to be seen in every part of it, a sudden and horrible rush of blood-thirsty Kaffirs again took place; the peaceful homes were broken into, the farmers, their wives and children, were brutally murdered, their flocks and herds driven off, and their homes were left in heaps of smouldering ruins.

Help was urgently asked for from the Cape. Colonel Harry Smith was in command there, and he lost no time in making his way to the scene of action to direct operations. He rode on horseback the whole of the way, changing to a fresh horse wherever he could, and in this way managed to do the six hundred miles from Capetown to Grahamstown in six days-a wonderful ride. But he was a gallant man, full of keenness to do his duty quickly and well, without any thought of the difficulty or danger to himself.

He, like Sir Rufane, also had a wife to whom he was devoted; and the way in which he met and married her was like a romance. He was at the storming of Badajos in the war against the French in Spain; when the British attacked the place and succeeded in taking it after tremendous losses—over 3000 killed. He found a Spanish girl in the town in terrible distress, her parents killed and home in ruins.

Moved by her beauty and distress he took her under his protection and married her; and there never was a happier marriage. The town of Harrismith in the Orange Free State was called after him, and the next town in Natal was called Ladysmith after her.

So, Colonel Harry Smith with his accustomed activity carried out a very rapid campaign against the Kaffirs in their own country, coming upon them with unexpected speed, here one day, there the next, till he fairly broke up and subdued them.

His force marched 218 miles in seven days on one occasion. He gave the enemy no peace until he had finally dispersed them and had shot their chief Hintga, recovered 3000 of the stolen cattle, and had brought back a thousand fugitives. By his prompt work the country was quickly settled again.

But do you suppose the people at home were satisfied ? Not a bit of it. Although he was beloved by the colonists and even by the natives, the Government in England thought he had been too hard upon the rebels, and so they ordered him to leave South Africa, where he had done so well, and to return home.

This was not the last of all the Kaffir troubles. Another outbreak was attempted.

The chief, finding he could not get his people willingly to face the white soldiers, got a witch to prophesy that if everybody killed their cattle, more cattle than ever would spring up in their place. So they all started killing every beast they had-the carcasses rotted on the plains, but no new animals appeared in their place; and the people got hungry and famine-stricken. Then came the opportunity, and they were urged to rush the white settlements again and to help themselves from the farmers' herds. But one thing had not been foreseen; the hunger might make them eager to steal cattle, but at the same time it made them so weak that they had not the strength to fight or to make the expedition. So the rebellion collapsed almost before it had begun.

Then once more, in 1850, Sir (as he had now become) Harry Smith was at war with the Kaffirs, though this rime the rebellion lasted a good deal longer than previously before it was finally put down. Reinforcements had been sent out from England in the ship Birkenhead (1852) to join his force, when that ship went down and gave the splendid example of men doing their duty in the face of death which has been described in "Scouting for Boys."

If you want to find a country where scouts have met with hairbreadth escapes and thrilling adventures, go to Natal.

Natal was first visited by that wonderful old Portuguese sea scout, Vasco da Gama, in 1497, and as he arrived in the landlocked bay, which is now Durban Harbour, on the Feast of the Nativity, or the Natal Day, he called the country Natal.

And it is to-day a rich and beautiful country, hot enough to grow sugar and tropical fruits, but not too hot for Europeans to live in and be healthy. But in the early days it was a pretty rough country to live in. For one thing, it was full of big game of every description, and also of that splendid tribe of savage warriors, the Zulus.

It was the game, especially the elephants with their valuable ivory, which first attracted the white men. The Boer hunters came wandering overland into it, while the British adventurers came by sea. The game soon began to get scarce owing to all these hunters coming with their rifles, and as the game disappeared disputes arose between the different hunting parties as to which part of the country belonged to which people.

A detachment of soldiers was sent from the Cape, overland, to keep order, but as they got near to the present site of Durban, where there was then only a camp, some Boers told them to go back as this was their country. When the troops continued to come on, the Boers attacked them in the swamps at Congella, and had all the best of the fight, capturing their three guns and killing and wounding half of the men. The force managed; however, to join hands with the other British in their camp and were then closely besieged by the Boers.

Their difficulty was to let the British General know of their plight, till one brave fellow volunteered to slip past the Boers and to ride the 600 miles to the nearest British troops.

So one fine night Dick King quietly got away, swimming the narrow creek that joins the harbour with the sea. He took two horses with him, and started off through a rough and difficult country, all alone, to get help.

He had to pass through places inhabited by Kaffirs who were not always friendly-at one kraal, indeed, they nearly shot him because they thought he was a Boer. He got food and rest at several mission stations, and at length after a hard ride of nine days he reached Grahamstown and gave his report to the General.

About the same time the women who were in the British camp got on board a ship which was in the harbour, and, with one man to steer, they managed to sail her out to sea.

The women remained down below, and the braces, halyards, and sheets were passed down through the skylights for them to pull as directed by the captain on deck. In this way they were safe from the fire of the Boers as they passed out through the narrow entrance, and they sailed their ship gaily away to Port Elizabeth.

In the meantime, the little garrison besieged at Durban were in dire straits, for they had very little food. But they killed their horses, just as we afterwards had to do in Mafeking, and dried the meat in the sun and so made biltong of it, which would keep for a long time. Their ration had to be cut down till they were only getting six ounces of meat and four ounces of broken biscuit; but they struggled gamely on, they were not going to say die till they were dead. They suffered a good deal from bombardment by the guns which had been their own, and the Boers' rifle fire was constant and very well aimed; and as most of them used the big-bore, muzzle-loading rifles called "roers" which were for elephant killing, the wounds that they inflicted were very severe indeed.

At last it seemed as if the garrison must surrender. For over a month no help came, and no news of it, but, like the frog in the cream-bowl, they still struggled on; and not content with sitting still to be bombarded, they made a night attack on the it enemy with the bayonet, and rushed his trenches; causing him considerable loss.

Then one night a distant rocket was seen to burst in the sky, which gave them a mighty hope. Nor were they disappointed, for next day there sailed in two British warships with strong reinforcements. The Boers, who were outnumbered; had to retire to Pietermaritzburg, and the gallant little garrison was relieved.

The Boers had in the meantime sent home a messenger to Holland asking the Dutch King to come to their assistance, and they hoped that powerful reinforcements would be sent to them.

They did the same in the last war, but they did not realise two things. First, that although European Powers may often appear to be very friendly on paper, they won't go out of their way to help any of the friends unless they know that they are going to get something out of it. Secondly, that if they want to send an expedition across the seas they have first got to reckon with the British fleet, and that is not an easy thing to do so long as it remains so strong.

So, although they pretended heaps of friendship, the Dutch in Holland sent no kind of help to the Boers in South Africa.

Then, too, a number of the more far-seeing Boers thought that as both white peoples had "come to stay" in South Africa it would be much. better if they made friends with each other. They had plenty of common enemies to deal with in the shape of Zulus and Kaffirs, difficult harvests, and cattle diseases, without fighting among themselves. The country was big, and there was plenty of room for both.

So in the end the Boers and British had friendly talks together and agreed that Natal should remain British while the Orange Free State and the Transvaal should be Boer country.

Consequently Natal soon became full of British settlers, and farms sprang up and became prosperous; trees, fields, and woods covered the veldt, villages and towns were built, roads and railways were made, so that now Natal is quite changed into a beautiful farming country and has won for itself the name of the " Garden Colony " of South Africa.

When I first came there some years ago, Durban was a small town with sandy streets through which the waggons were dragged by weary teams of oxen. Now it is a very different place, with its splendid town hall and public buildings, fine streets, electric trams, taxi-cabs, and all that goes to make up a fine, up-to-date, prosperous, and busy city.

The Back Beach, where we used to go and look at the surf, but where we did not dare to bathe because of the sharks, is now a delightful and popular watering place. Railings have been set up among the breakers which effectually keep the sharks and bathers apart (not that the bathers want to get at the sharks, the boot is on the other leg), and surf bathing is now both safe and enjoyable. Boy Scouts of Natal

And of course the Boy Scouts are there in all their glory. When I went there on my tour they had a nice camp down among the bush and sand-hills overlooking the beach, and were having a glorious time of it bathing and playing Scout games.

They had a rally for my inspection, and showed how good they were at dealing with accidents, doing good turns, signalling, and pioneering. They built a bridge, too, but more silently than I had ever seen it done before. Each patrol had its own share of the work, knew exactly what it had to do, and did it without any help from the Scoutmaster and without any talking, shouting, or grousing. That's what I like to see!

Not far from the Scouts' camp was an aviator showing to thousands of astonished natives what he could do with his great, bird-like aeroplane. He flew round the racecourse low down, taking the different jumps as he came to them. Then two motor cyclists started to race round the track, and the aeroplane pursued and overtook them, swooping down close behind them and gracefully rising again exactly as a hark after a rabbit might do.

A lady with whom I was watching the aeroplane remembered having seen wild elephants there when she was a girl. It seemed wonderful that in so short a time as one lady's life such a, vast difference could come over the country. And as I took a fly round in the aeroplane myself a few minutes later, I could see the spot where the British had fought with the Boers, and where both parties had hunted their game.

I could see where the British women had sailed their ship out past the bluff, and where the Zulus had rushed the town and had destroyed it. From the aeroplane one could almost see the history of the place at a glance. How different now. But at the same time one could see from the aeroplane the distant hills of Zululand where still the Zulus live, a brave and active race.

There have been many fine corps of mounted men in South Africa, and I have myself belonged to several, including the Rhodesian Regiment, the Protectorate Regiment, and the South African Constabulary—one of the smartest corps for its size that ever existed.

But the C.M.R. (Cape Mounted Rifles) is the oldest and best, and, indeed, is the only regular military force in South Africa. It has proved itself so valuable that it is going to be increased. It has distinguished itself in many campaigns, best of all. I think, when on service in Basutoland some years ago.

The Basutos are a warlike tribe, all horsemen and armed with modern rifles. They live in a mountainous country between Natal and the Orange Free State. And from time to time they have proved troublesome to white settlers living near their border, so that the Cape Government had to take them in hand and to post police and magistrates in their country to keep them in order.

At one time they refused to pay their taxes, which of course were necessary, for the wages of the police, and for making roads and so on. One chief in particular refused to pay, and burnt the magistrate's house and took up his position at the top of a very difficult mountain called Moirosis Mountain. Here he defied the Government; so an expedition was sent against them.

The force was made up of C.M.R. and Yeomanry and volunteers. They attacked the stronghold, but there was only one path by which it could be reached, and this was strongly defended by stone breastworks held by good riflemen. After a bold effort, the attackers were driven back with the loss of twenty-two killed.

A few weeks later another assault was made under command of the frontier soldier Colonel Brabant; but this, too, was repulsed with loss. Then Colonel Bayly of the C.M.R. offered to make a success of it if only that corps were allowed to carry it out without assistance from volunteers. This was granted. The stormers rushed the stone breastworks in the middle of the night. At the back of these there was a steep cliff, at the top of which was a cleft in the rocks which led on to the flat top of the mountain.

This cleft was so narrow that only one man at a time could get through it. So the job looked an almost impossible one; but, the C.M.R.; like Scouts, are not put off because a job looks difficult, they meant to have a good try at it. They had prepared for the cliff by taking scaling ladders with them. By means of these they climbed up to the cleft, and pushing through this they were soon on the mountain-top. There in the early dawn they formed themselves for attack, and as the astonished natives turned out hurriedly to repel them they charged with fixed bayonets and soon had the whole stronghold in their possession, and the rebellion was crushed.

The natives all over the country were then ordered to give up their rifles, and when they refused, further fighting went on in the following year. The Basutos attacked various settlements occupied by white magistrates and others, but these were gallantly defended.

One place in particular, Mohalies Hock, was held by twelve white men under Mr. W. H. Surmon, with a few friendly natives, against thousands of the enemy. For two months the little garrison gallantly held out, and in the end they were relieved.

Even the Government post of Maseru itself was attacked by a mass of these brave Basutos. But it was held by 300 of the equally brave C.M.R., and though outnumbered at every turn they, fought like heroes, and after some hot hand-to-hand struggles the white troops at length succeeded in beating off their opponents. Such is the stuff that the C.M.R. are made of.

One of the things that strike a stranger in Natal is the rickshas and the ricksha-boys. The ricksha, as you probably know, is a little carriage on two wheels which will carry two people-at a pinch, and is drawn by a "boy," as a native is called in this country. The "boys" in Natal are all Zulus, and when in charge of a ricksha they deck and paint themselves up till they look almost as fine as they did in the old days when they dressed as warriors in their war-paint of fur and feather.

They are splendidly built men, strong, athletic, and very cheery-they are the last of a very fine, brave race. We have had to fight them many and many a time during the last seventy years, and can only hope that such fighting is over for ever, but it does not do to be too sure.

In 1823 among the first settlers in Natal were some splendid types of scouts; a father and his three sons named Fynn, F. Farewell, James King, Allen Gadner, and various others. Three of them had been officers in the Royal Navy. They started the town of Durban, which they named after the Governor of South Africa at that time, Sir Benjamin D'Urban.

They built their own ship out of materials got on the spot. They got a number of the Zulus to become their loyal servants, so that they became chiefs themselves and were able to take the field successfully against the hostile Zulus; and so to protect the colony and weaker tribes who came under their sway. And they were all good elephant hunters and farmers.

The Zulus were at that time a very numerous tribe living in Zululand and part of Transvaal and Natal. Their chief was Chaka, a wonderful man; brave, powerful, and cruel. He liked killing people, no matter whether they deserved it or not. He had thirty regiments of a thousand men each, all highly trained to fighting. Their usual weapons were a big six-foot shield of ox-hide, three light assegais for throwing at the enemy, and a broad-bladed one for stabbing with, and a knobkerry or club.

Chaka altered their armament and only allowed the stabbing assegai with the handle broken off, so that practically his men were only armed with daggers and shields, all their fighting being done hand to hand. Any man who showed the slightest hesitation or did not instantly obey his leader in the fighting was afterwards executed. Those who did particularly well were allowed to wear a black ring as head-dress and were given permission to marry.

These "ring-kops," as they were called, were the veterans and formed what was termed the "chest" of the army, while the younger and more active men formed the two "arms." The army generally attacked in the formation shown above. Sometimes it was described as the head and horns. Like a bull the head delivered the crushing blow, while the horns did the wounding.

However, Chaka, the chief, came to a violent end, for he was eventually assassinated by his own brother Dingaan in 1837.

A large party of Boers who had been friendly with him came and paid him a visit to make an agreement as to some land that they were to occupy on the Zulu border. Dingaan received them in a very friendly way, but while they were all sitting round having a talk with him he suddenly gave the order to his warriors to kill the white men, which they at once did. The whole party of sixty were butchered, including two Englishmen.

Then the Zulus went out, and during the night reached the Boers' camp, which they rushed, killing men, women, and children, to the number of two hundred and eighty, besides nearly as many more native servants. The scene of the massacre was called Wienen—the Dutch for "weeping."

A small force of Dutchmen bravely went to avenge the disaster, but were themselves nearly slaughtered, and also a force of seventeen Englishmen with 1500 friendly Zulus set out from Durban to "go for" Dingaan. Though at first they succeeded pretty well, they were in the end utterly defeated, and only four of the Englishmen and about 500 of their men got away alive. Dingaan's army followed them into Durban, and they only escaped by getting on board ship while the Zulus sacked the town and destroyed it.

But the Boers were brave fellows, and they said that unless Dingaan were overcome the Zulus would never cease to murder white settlers, so Andres Pretorius, the commandant, got together a commando of 500 of them and marched against Dingaan and his thousands of savage warriors.

They took their waggons full of supplies with them, and "laagered" them up at night in a square so as to form a defensive rampart, with all the oxen inside the square for safety. The waggon tarpaulins and ox-hides were stretched over the waggons and pegged to the ground outside, so that it was very difficult for an attacker to climb over. The Boers left nothing to chance.

When the Zulus saw this handful of whites come right into their country, they eagerly swarmed out to attack, and, as they expressed it, "to eat them up." But the Boers had made their laager on the edge of a ravine, which prevented attack on two sides, and the great numbers of the Zulus did not tell so heavily, as only a certain portion of them could attack the front at one time, there was not room for all.

As they surged forward to scale the laager, the Boers waited till they were close up and then a volley rang out from five hundred rifles, not one of which was likely to miss its mark, and the whole of the front ranks of the attackers went down. Again their supporting lines rushed forward yelling their war cries, certain of their prey, but only to fall under the same unerring fire.

At times a few would get right up to the laager while the Boers were loading, but even then they could not scale the smooth rampart, and having nothing but their dagger assegais they could not reach the defenders after repeated repulses. Still they went on attacking, till at last they recoiled under the heavy losses.

Then it was that Pretorius did a fine piece of tactics by suddenly dashing out of the laager with a strong party of mounted Boers, and galloping round the flank of the Zulus he brought a heavy fire to bear on the enemy from a new direction. Under this cross-fire the Zulus broke up and fled, the Boers pursuing and shooting all the time. Pretorius himself was at one time on the ground having a hand-to-hand fight with a Zulu.

The Zulus took refuge in the river, but this did not avail them, and the river that day gained its name as the Blood River. Dingaan's kraal was destroyed, and he himself fled to the neighbouring country of the Swazis; but he had no friends anywhere, and the Swazis put him to death with horrid tortures. The date of the battle was December 16, 1838, and the anniversary is still kept up of "Dingaan's Day."

Forty years later, in 1879, they came into opposition with the British. They were a great danger both to the Boers in the Transvaal and to the British in Natal, Zululand being wedged in between the two countries. They had been threatening for some time, when we sent to their King, Cetewayo, and told him he must disband his army as it was a menace.

When Cetewayo refused, an expedition of British troops was sent into Zululand. The force left its camp at Isandlwana Hill to go and attack the Zulu army, leaving one battalion—the 24th—behind to protect the waggons and baggage, but the enemy dodged round behind the mountain, and while the column was looking for it in one direction it had got round behind them and was attacking their camp in the rear.

The 24th bravely defended themselves, but though They were 800 men they had warriors against them, and in the end they were all killed, with the exception of a very few who got away. But they sold their lives dearly, since nearly 3000 dead Zulus were found on the ground next day.

The same afternoon about 4000 of the Zulus started off to raid Natal, and crossed the boundary, the Buffalo River, at Rorke's Drift, where stood a small group of mission buildings which were used as a store for military provisions, and were guarded by 230 men of the 24th Regiment under Lieutenant Bromhead and Lieutenant Chard of the Royal Engineers.

The little garrison managed to intrench themselves and to hold off the enemy's attack all that night, so that at dawn the Zulus cleared off back into their own country, defeated, and leaving some 300 dead behind them. For their gallantry the two officers, Chaplain Smith (who acted as ammunition carrier) and several others of the defence force were awarded the Victoria Cross.

Later on the British force again came into contact with the enemy at Kambula, where a column under Colonel (now Field-Marshal) Evelyn Wood, V.C., defeated them. And again at Ulundi, where the British received their charge in square and mowed them down with a heavy fire.

Then, as the remainder fell back to prepare another charge, the Cavalry, the 17th Lancers, or "Death or Glory Boys," dashed out and drove the enemy headlong before their terrible spears; and that was the end of the war.

Cetewayo was made a prisoner, and the Zulus were divided up into eight tribes so that they could never again rise against us as one great nation.

It is well to Be Prepared, not merely for what is probable but for what is even possible. we found the value of this some ten years later-in 1888.

Our farmers were living quietly and happily on their farms, when four of the Zulu tribes banded themselves together at the call of Dinizulu, Cetewayo's son, and rushed among them slaying right and left and driving off their cattle. The same old story!

Then came an expedition against them, quite a small one compared with the great Zulu war, but interesting to me because I was lucky enough to be in it. I had lots of exciting times when scouting, and when working with those tribes which remained faithful to the British. They had no hesitation about fighting against their own race. So long as there was fighting to be done they did not seem particular as to which side they were on.

They were fine, brave, cheery fellows; and their chief was a white man, John Dunn, who had lived most of his life among them and was a fine type of peace Scout.

Another warrior tribe which caused much trouble to both Boers and ourselves was a branch of the Zulus called the Matabele. These had opposed the Boers when they first came across the Vaal River in 1838, to occupy the country called the Transvaal.

The Boers, under Potgieter and Pretorius, did some gallant work and hard campaigning before they finally defeated Mosilikatze, the chief of the Matabele, and drove him up into the northern country beyond the Crocodile River.

Here the British had to face the Matabele in 1893 when under Cecil Rhodes' direction a force of armed pioneers made an expedition into that country. After several encounters with the Matabele impis (or regiments), the tribes were finally subdued and the country made habitable for white people of both races.

From this very short account you will see that the white people, both Boers and British, had a very difficult business before them when colonising South Africa—that was in overcoming the opposition of brave and warlike native tribes. Both races took their share in this work, and both suffered severe losses over it. On one occasion, when the Boers suffered repulse at the hands of a tribe in the, Transvaal under Sekukuni, the British sent an expedition which finally suppressed him. So each of us owes something to the other on this head.

I told you, when writing about the lumbermen of British Columbia, how even these men who are supposed to be such rough customers are clean and well-behaved. People seem to think a working-man is necessarily one who is of a low class because he works with his hands and is generally dirty and rough. Well, this need not be so. A man can work with his brains as an electrician, or an engraver, or a watchmaker, or as a clerk or writer, and be just as hard a worker as the bricklayer, or navvy, or carman. They are all " working-men," but some are cleaner than others and people seem to call the dirtiest-" workingmen."

This is all wrong, but it is partly brought about by the men themselves not keeping themselves clean, not having a proper pride in themselves. People can't help looking down on a fellow if he is dirty, whereas whenever a man cleans himself up, no matter how low down he may be in poverty or work, people at once have a respect for him.

And it is just the same with uncivilised people. The genuine Arabs are clean, well-washed men, and one respects and admires them, while in the same country are lower-caste tribes, living the same lives in the same country, who are dirty and unwashed, and everybody looks down upon them and treats them. like dogs.

The Zulu is very clean, and likes to appear smart in his ornaments and dress, and, especially before a battle, he oils himself over to make his skin bright and clean, just as of old our sailors on going into action used to wash themselves and do their hair. A Zulu looks down on many of the neighbouring tribes and calls them mere "Kaffirs" because they are dirty and take no pride in themselves.

I believe; too, it is one of the points that make the Boy Scouts popular with the public, they generally appear so clean and bright—even grubby knees are scrubbed before going on parade, as well as faces and hands.

The railway runs through rocky gorges which are crowned with modern forts into Pretoria, a city with wide streets and handsome public buildings.

It is difficult for me to believe that when I first came here I had to come over 250 miles in a cart; there was no railway, and what is now the Central Square with its handsome House of Parliament, Government offices, and hotels, was then the market place surrounded by whitewashed cottages with thatched roofs and hedges of rose bushes. And I used then to think what a wonderful change that was from the time when my uncle saw it some years previously, when it was only a camp with a laager or fort made of waggons for protection against the natives. He himself went elephant shooting in the neighbouring Megalisberg Hills.

Pretorius was at that time the Commandant of the Boers, and he it was who had guided them to this splendid land and who had led them successfully against their powerful native opponents, the Matabele under Mosilikatze. When things settled down and the town was built, it was rightly named after this leader, and was called Pretoria.

It was here that I first met Paul Kruger, the President of the Transvaal Republic, and I had a very great admiration for him as a man of strong character, in many ways like our Oliver Cromwell of England. But Cromwell looked far ahead into the future and far afield in the world, outside the boundaries of his own time and country; that is where Kruger failed, and this finally led to his downfall in the war of 1899.

Thirty miles to the south-west of Pretoria lies the city of Johannesburg. This is the biggest centre of gold mining in the world.

Not only is Johannesburg itself a big city, bigger than the capital of the Transvaal, Pretoria, but it is the central link in a long chain of small mining towns and villages which run for over fifty miles in length. Tall chimneys, mine head-works, great white dump heaps, looking like snow mountains in the distance, mark the presence of mines for miles and miles. And the air is full of a low murmur like distant thunder which comes from the stamp batteries, that is the steam hammers which pound up the rock brought up from below and mix it with water, so that it flows off like liquid mud over zinc tables or " plates." Here the grains of gold, being heavier than other minerals, sink and get caught on the plates from which they are collected.

To look at all these miles upon miles of mines and machinery and the thousands of men at work, one would imagine that in a week enough gold would be produced to supply the whole world for a very long time, but that is not the case. They go on working all the year round, and yet the value of gold does not go down; a sovereign remains a sovereign, and we all want a few of them just as much as we ever did!

Johannesburg, in addition to its gold, produces another article which is even more valuable than gold, and that is good, efficient Boy Scouts. These made a fine show, and gave some very good demonstrations of their work. They also had a most cheery camp fire, at which they showed a good deal of talent.

One Scout in particular, got up as a Zulu "medicine man," gave a splendid imitation of the Zulu "imbongo" or chorus, praising the virtues of his chief with due ceremony.

When I was about ten years old the first diamonds were found in South Africa. The story of it was that a farmer named O'Reilly had put up for the night with a Boer farmer living on the banks of the Vaal River some three hundred miles southwest of Pretoria. He noticed that the Boer's children had a number of little pebbles which they played with. These pebbles were about the size of a pea, but pointed instead of round and almost transparent. So he asked for one or two, which he took with him to Capetown, and there had them examined. They were diamonds, one of them alone being worth £500.

1 remember a man telling me--though I cannot remember his name-that he was about, that same time near the same place. He had done something wrong in the Transvaal, and was riding hard all night to escape across the Vaal River which was then the boundary between British and Boer country. Just at early sunrise he crossed the river at a ford or " drift," as it is called in South Africa. As he rode up the opposite bank he noticed something glittering in the path, and looked at it as he passed, but it seemed to be only a little bit of glass.

He went on to the top of the bank, where there was a little inn built of wattle plastered over with dried mud. Here he dismounted and sat down, safe from further pursuit, to have some coffee. He sat outside in the sun, and while waiting for the coffee he noticed another bit of glass sticking in the mud wall of the hut. He prised it out with his knife, and found it to be not glass, but one of these peculiar-shaped pebbles. So he walked down to the drift again and soon found the other which had attracted his attention, and it was just like the one he had. He took these with him to an expert, and found that they were diamonds.

Well, when stones worth £500 apiece can be picked up on the ground, you may imagine there will be several people willing to go and pick them up. In a very short time the news got about, crowds of people made their way up to the Vaal River, and soon large numbers of diamonds were collected.

They then found it still better to dig for them, as those in the river were few and far between, and had only been washed down by floods from the ground where they originally belonged. This ground was only a very small tract, and when workings regularly started here and a town sprang up, it received the name of Kimberley. Lord Kimberley being at that time the Secretary of State for the Colonies.

Among the many men who came there and bought a plot of land or "claim" and dug in it, was a young man named Cecil Rhodes. He had come out from England as an invalid to get the benefit of the bright, clear air of South Africa. He worked hard and got health and also wealth, for he bought claims from other men, who, after a little digging did not find diamonds were so plentiful as they had hoped, and gave up in despair. He, like a Scout, "stuck to it," and so got on.

He made great sums of money, but he never cared about it for himself. He lived in a very simple way out on the veldt as much as possible; but he liked to spend his money on opening up the country. He equipped an expedition of pioneers to go up into the great territories north of the Transvaal occupied by the Matabele, Mashona, and other savage tribes. These countries were known to be good for cattle raising, because explorers and hunters like Livingstone and Selous had already visited and reported on them.

But although these scouts had prepared the way peacefully with the natives, these became aggressive when they saw the white men wanted to settle in their country, although it was a huge tract of land six times the size of the British Isles, and with only as many people in it as are to be found in any ordinary town in England, such as Brighton.

So they sallied out in all their war-paint to slaughter the pioneers, but these men were all pretty good frontiersmen, and were quite able to stand up to the Matabele, although largely outnumbered by them. Time after time the savage warriors attacked the whites, but were driven back on each occasion with heavy losses. At length, finding that fighting was no good, the natives gave in and made a treaty of peace with the white men, and the pioneers started to settle the country and to administer it.

Rut they had not succeeded without some severe losses, notably when a party under Major Wilson was pursuing the Matabele King, Lobengula, along the Shangani River and got surrounded and cut off by the enemy. For some hours they stood on the defensive while their ammunition gradually ran out, until finally the enemy were able to rush them with their assegais, and not one lived to tell the tale.

Buluwayo, which had been Lobengula's head kraal, now became the site of the new town; farms started in every direction with white settlers from England, gold and coal were discovered, and the country settled down apparently to being a peaceful and prosperous British colony.

But within three years the same thing happened which had always happened before, and for which our people never seem to be prepared, although if they only read their history books they would see the lesson told to them often enough. The natives suddenly broke out and began murdering the farmers.

Selous, the well-known hunter, had a farm about thirty miles outside Buluwayo. He was away one, morning and his wife was alone in the house, when a native from the neighbouring Matabele village came and asked her to lend him as many axes as she could spare. She lent them, although she could not make out why the man wanted them. Well, it was a rather difficult matter for him to explain, the truth being that he and his friends wanted the axes in order to batter in her head and Captain Selous' later in the day.

Fortunately her husband returned shortly after, having got wind of the native rebellion, and getting Mrs. Selous hurriedly on to her horse, they both left hastily for Buluwayo , but before they were out of sight of their farm they saw, on looking back, that it was already in flames; the Matabele were on the war-path.

And it took its nearly a year's campaigning before we finally overcame them and peace was once more established. And now Rhodesia is a rising and prosperous country; and giving grand openings to enterprising young colonists.

But with these warlike natives you can never tell when they may not break out. The only thing is to Be Prepared beforehand, and then you will be perfectly safe. If every farm had its little fort or fortified building always ready, and its men and women and boys all trained to shoot, there would be very few of the murders and raids which have been so common in the country when the defenceless state of the farmers invited attack.

And this is one of the reasons why we encourage Scouts to learn marksmanship-just on the same principle that they learn boxing-not in order that they should go and attack everyone they see, but that they should be able to defend themselves and those who are dear to them should it ever be necessary to do so.

Some day you may want to go out to an Oversea Dominion, and it may very easily cost you your life if you don't know how to use a rifle.

In the early morning our train stops at the little town of Newcastle, the last town in Natal towards the Transvaal border. Like Newcastle in England and Newcastle in New South Wales, this place has its coal mines, and like them also it has its Boy Scouts. The Scouts only paraded in small numbers, as most of them were away on their holidays in camp or at the seaside, but those that were present were a nice, promising-looking lot, very clean and cheery.

Alongside them were also the Newcastle Girl Guides, equally smart, and evidently doing their work well. To one of these I had the pleasure of presenting the medal for gallantry in life saving. Three children had got into difficulties when bathing, and were drowning when a lady dashed to their rescue, but she in her turn got swept out of her depth, and she, too, was in great danger of being drowned when the Girl Guide, Carrie Cross, sprang in to her assistance.

Although but a poor swimmer, this girl did not lose her head in the midst of the excitement where four people were drowning, but she gallantly went to their rescue without any thought of the danger to herself. She succeeded in getting hold of the lady, and in bringing her safely to shore after a plucky struggle. The children were unfortunately drowned. For her gallant conduct the Guide received the Silver Cross for life saving.

After leaving Newcastle, the line winds and climbs up the hills to the ridge which divides Natal from the Transvaal. The pass over this ridge is called Laings Nek, and formed a strong position for defence by the Boers in both the Boer campaigns of 1881 and of 1900, and there many a gallant soldier lost his life.

In the 1881 campaign, after trying in vain to drive the Boers out of their trenches on Laings Nek, Sir George Colley, the British General, took a portion of his force by night up to the top of the Majuba mountain, which overlooks the Laings Nek position.

As you will have read in "Scouting for Boys," it was a Boer woman who first noticed the British on the top of the mountain, and pointed it out to the Boer Commandant.

You would think a fellow a pretty average cotter if, after a hard match at football, he showed a nasty feeling about it, that is, if, as a winner, he swaggered over the other side as being a lot of ninnies, or if, as a loser, he bore a grudge against the fellows who had won.

The manly way is for both sides to shake hands and be the best of friends after a game—the harder the game has been the better they can admire each other, and the better friends they can be. It is just the same after a war.

And that's what I was so glad to find in South Africa; the Boers and British have learnt to admire each other, and have settled down together as friends, and all the better friends for the better knowledge of each other gained in a long-fought campaign. "The past is past," they say, "let us look to the future." And that is the manly way to look at it,

The troubles which have arisen from time to time between the British and Boer inhabitants of South Africa have not been due so much to ill-feeling on the part of the two peoples against each other, as to their two Governments getting at loggerheads and not understanding the question-that is, not seeing things from the other's point of view.

The fault lies sometimes with one Government, sometimes with the other. The people, in both cases loyal to their own Government, had to follow suit, and so had to fight each other—thus ill-feeling naturally resulted from, though it did not begin, the fighting. Both peoples were originally from the same stock in northern Europe before they came to South Africa. Both have earned their rights equally in South Africa, as can be seen from the following score-sheet :

SCORE-SHEET

THE BOERS

THE BRITISH.

First colonised the Cape and Western Provinces.

Colonised the Orange Free State, Transvaal.

Defeated Dingaan, Mosilikatze.

Cultivated the veldt, raised cattle and horses and mules, ostriches, farm produce.

Produced men like Van Riebeck, Van der Stel, Pretorius, Kruger.

First annexed the Cape and colonised Eastern Province.

Colonised Natal, Rhodesia.

Defeated Cetewayo, Lobengula, Sekukuni.

Made railways, harbours, gold and diamond mines.

Produced men like Livingstone, Harry Smith, Cecil Rhodes, Bartle Frere.

Even in their quarrels the results have come out pretty equal-the British were defeated in 1851, the Boers in 1900. So the honours are equally due to both. Where each had such history and such rights, what was wanted was one single, broad-minded Government for both, in place of two Governments continually misunderstanding each other. This has now come about; the two Governments are formed into one.

There is therefore no longer any need for quarrelling; the two people can now settle down together again, but as one instead of two nations, and can work together in friendship for the good of the whole land.

There may be a few old-timers on both sides who will grumble about the past till they die. Let us hope that this may be soon.

In the meantime there is a younger and more sensible lot growing up, who can see the other fellow's point of view. They will look to the good of the country as their first duty, putting their own personal feelings on one side. In this way they will raise South Africa to be really a great State among the other nations of the world.

In this grand work the Boy Scouts-Boer and British -are already taking a step by being brothers in that great brotherhood, and in Being Prepared to do their best for their country.

The last I saw of our Overseas lands on my tour round the world was the top point of Table Mountain. A cloud had come over it out of a clear blue sky just before our ship steamed out of Capetown Docks, and as we slid out to sea with our bow pointed homewards nothing was visible of the mountain; he had completely hidden himself under a curtain of cloud. But as we drove. farther and farther away and could no longer see the shore, up above the cloud his strong, grey head appeared just as if to give us a smiling farewell before we sailed away for good.

I have seen the old mountain many, many times, but (as I wrote of him fifteen years ago) he always seems to me to have something human about him, something divine. I have been eight times in South Africa. Each time I started out from under the shadow of the great mountain, and went far across the veldt to very distant scenes, doing the work that had to be done, sometimes in sunshine, sometimes in rain; often well, sometimes ill.

Sometimes the work was difficult or unpleasant, sometimes easy and delightful--it all had to be done and then at the end of it I returned back to the old mountain. I always looked out for his rugged old head as I came south, and felt the trip was over only when I was back upon his shoulder again.

But it always seemed to me very much like our life. We start out from the hand of the Great Maker, and go for our trip in the world, sometimes in trouble, at other times in prosperity; sometimes praised, sometimes found fault with; sometimes having to tackle the greatest difficulties, and at others finding things running as smoothly as oil. But in the end we come back to our Maker, whether we have done evil or good.

Some who have done evil are afraid as they come back—they fear death—but the fellow who has done his best comes back with no fear upon him; he can truthfully say to God: "I have tried to do my duty—I have done my best," and no man can do more than that; and he can go to his rest tired and satisfied.

For a Boy Scout this is easy. You know that your duty is to do your best to carry out

Remember what both these are; try to carry them out, then you will have done your Duty.

From South Africa we hail back, up the West Coast past Nigeria and Sierra Leone with their Boy Scouts, to Europe. We coast along past Gibraltar, Spain, Portugal and France, in all of which Boy Scouts are to be found.

After a few hours only in England, 1 went on for a little holiday in Norway and here, as everywhere else, I found our brother Scouts "going strong."