A VALLEY OF DRY BONES. 81 



toiled painfully up ; our enemies were being left farther 

 and farther behind, when, as if we were haunted by 

 some evil genius, our wagon came to a standstill, nor 

 could all our efforts move it. The Boers trecked on, 

 but promised, as soon as they got to the summit, to send 

 us back aid. Hour after hour passed, still no signs 

 of assistance arrived ; the mosquitoes were in myriads. 

 Neither Morris nor I dismounted, but waited and 

 prayed for daybreak and assistance; the utter solitude 

 of the long, long trying night being only broken by 

 an occasional drunken yell from our outwitted enemies, 

 and a fusillade of fireworks which they thought proper 

 to let off a few minutes before it broke day. 



As soon as the light was sufficiently good, my friend 

 took upon himself the onerous post of guard, and I 

 hurried forward after the Boers, a suspicion having 

 arisen in my mind that, as William had gone with his 

 comrades, possibly they might contemplate deserting us. 

 But I did them injustice. Some miles forward I met 

 the irrepressible William, with three extra yokes of 

 cattle, coming down the hill to our relief at the double. 

 By half-past eleven we were on the plateau, and out- 

 spanned, all thoroughly tired with our labour, but 

 satisfied with the result it had produced. 



Next day we passed over the lovely and rugged 

 valley of Karkloof. Here, although I did not see them, 

 are some pretty villas, belonging to the wealthy class of 

 Maritzburg and Durban. The grade of ascent on the 

 north side of the valley is very long and fearfully steep ; 

 the skeletons of numerous bullocks on both sides of the 

 road attesting how hard it is on draft cattle, while in- 

 numerable vultures sail overhead, at immense altitudes, 

 doubtless earnestly looking out for accidents ; however, 

 G 



