ing in that direction we soon caught sight of the huts used by the cowherds who were in charge of Gassibone’s cattle.
Beyond a question, the Vaal is one of the most treacherous rivers in South Africa; its banks almost to the very middle of the channel are so soft and slippery, that draught-animals going to drink are liable to sink so deep into the mud that it is impossible to extricate them; in such cases they have been known to die of starvation. Accidents of this kind are especially likely to occur with the aged beasts which, having got knocked-up on the way, are left behind to await their owner’s return; this, if he has gone on a business journey, is occasionally delayed for months. I have myself experienced some mischances arising from this condition of the margin of the river.
My people lost no time in going to find out where the Batlapin cattle went to drink, and while they were making their investigation, I took my gun and strolled down towards the water’s edge. It was getting dusk, and I was desirous, if I could, to shoot some wild fowl for supper. In order to make as little noise as possible, I walked on tiptoe over the firmer parts of the shore, and whenever the trailing branches obstructed my path, I stooped down gently to remove them. Before long there was a sudden cackling on my left, followed by a sonorous flapping of wings, and two of the wild geese (Chenalopex) of which I was in search were making their escape down the river. I dropped upon my knee, prepared to fire,
