THE WAGON AT LAST 247 



until morning. I had quite made up my mind 

 that Andries would not be able to find me. 

 The night was too black; there were no hills 

 nor other salient landmarks to guide him to 

 the spot. Looking to westward before we 

 started I could see that the dune was full of 

 forks and branches in that direction. I tried 

 to comfort myself with anticipation of the 

 enormous candle-bush fire I would make as 

 soon as day broke, and the breakfast of broiled 

 springbuck liver I would consume. My 

 matches were safe in a waterproof pouch. 

 How leaden-footed is time when one is miser- 

 able ! 



An earth-tremor; a telephone-message thrill- 

 ing along the earth's sensitive surface — telling 

 of hoofs and wheels in rythmic motion. Had 

 the miracle happened? Yes, — the wagon 

 rolled up and my martyrdom was at an end. 

 Deo gr alias ! 



But how did Andries manage it? He heard 

 no shot, he saw none of my flares. He could 

 not tell me; as a matter of fact he, himself, 

 did not know. His feat could only be ex- 

 plained through some theory of unconscious 

 cerebration. Andries was elderly, stout and 

 somewhat lethargic, he had never read any 

 book but the Bible, and of that there was quite 



