The Journal of a Sporting Nomad 
to suit the owner, one of the features being a 
distortion of the trigger guard. I was not pre- 
pared for what happened. Both barrels went 
off simultaneously, and the hammers hit me 
over the right eyebrow, cutting my face pain- 
fully, whilst the hippo disappeared like a flash 
into deep water. . 
I spent a week in Durban, and then went up 
to Johannesburg. In those days the railway only 
went as far as Standerton, the journey being 
made thence to the mining town by coach. As 
those days have long since passed, it may be of 
interest if I publish a snapshot of the coach and 
one of the teams. It was a most enjoyable 
drive, the teams being changed often, and the 
journey made more often than not at a gallop. 
A nigger held the ribbons, whilst the whip was 
manipulated by a white man. After a week 
spent in Johannesburg, I returned to Cape Town, 
thence to England, where I arrived after being — 
away from home just over twelve months. 
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