Another of our circle was Major Hamilton Gould Adams,[21]
Resident Commissioner of the Bechuanaland Protectorate, who commanded
the town guard, representing the civil as opposed to the military
interests. In contrast to the usual practice, these departments worked
perfectly smoothly together at Mafeking.
Colonel Baden-Powell did not look on my presence with great favour,
neither did he order me to leave, and I had a sort of presentiment that
I might be useful, considering that there were but three trained nurses
in the Victoria Hospital to minister to the needs of the whole garrison.
Therefore, though I talked of going South every day by one of the
overcrowded trains to Cape Town, in which the Government was offering
free tickets to any who wished to avail themselves of the opportunity, I
secretly hoped to be allowed to remain. We had taken a tiny cottage in
the town, and we had all our meals at Dixon's Hotel, where the food was
weird, but where certainly no depression of spirits reigned. I even
bought a white pony, called Dop,[22] from a Johannesburg polo-player,
and this pony, one of the best I have ever ridden, had later on some
curious experiences. One day Dr. Jameson arrived on his way to Rhodesia,
but he was hustled away with more haste than courtesy by General
Baden-Powell, who bluntly told him that if he meant to stay in the town
a battery of artillery would be required to defend it; and of
field-guns, in spite of urgent representations, not one had reached us
from Cape Town.
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