The Journal of a Sporting Nomad 
much so, in fact, that he went to sleep on the 
box, leaving the oxen in the custody of a small 
boy. 
The heat, the jolting, and the dust made this 
part of the journey a perfect nightmare. There 
were four passengers beside myself—all men. 
After about three or four hours, the driver, 
who was now awake, proceeded to try and walk 
beside his team, and presently lagged some 
distance behind. Coming upon a deep spruit 
full of water, which came well over the box of 
the wheels, we hurried through it, hoping that 
our drunken henchman would get sobered if he 
had to wade it. We did not have the chance 
that day of seeing the effect of agua pura on this 
individual, for he did not turn up again until 
next morning, when we started afresh from ~ 
Lloyd’s Store—a sort of wayside hotel. We 
slept in native huts, which were, however, built 
for the occupation of white people, and furnished 
after a fashion that was not altogether uncom- 
fortable. After we had had some supper in the 
main building, we four passengers turned in for 
the night, only to be kept awake by singing and 
laughing in another hut some few paces away 5 _ 
evidently the occupants were making a night of 
it. Some one upset a candle in this hut, which 
set on fire the flimsy reed and wattle. I heard 
the shout of “ Fire! ” and rushed out to see two 
men tumble out of the now fiercely burning | 
86 
