THERE is a spot on the edge of the Berg which we 

 made our summer quarters. When September 

 came round and the sun swung higher in the 

 steely blue, blazing down more pitilessly than 

 ever ; when the little creeks were running 

 dry and the water-holes became saucers of cracked 

 mud ; when the whole country smelt of fine impal- 

 pable dust ; it was a relief to quit the Bushveld, 

 and even the hunting was given up almost without 

 regret. 



On the Berg the air was clear and bracing, as well 

 it might be five to seven thousand feet above the sea. 

 The long green sweeps of undulating country were 

 broken by deep gorges where the mountain streams 

 had cut their way through the up-tilted outer edge 

 of the big plateau and tumbled in countless water- 

 falls into the Bushveld below ; and behind the rolling 

 downs again stood the remnants of the upper for- 

 mation the last tough fragments of those rocks 

 which the miners believed originally held the gold 

 worn and washed away, inch by inch and ounce 



240 



