94 THE GREAT THIRST LAND. 



they were four years old. I know when I was a boy I 

 had a wholesome dread of trespassing too far into a field 

 where there was a bull. 



After having ridden about five miles I came to three 

 wagons outspanned by the roadside, in a very picturesque 

 position. In the foreground, with his back against one 

 of the wheels, sat on the ground a very handsome, clean- 

 looking old man. In English he returned my salutation. 

 The clatter of my horse's feet brought several younger 

 persons out of their wagons, who all shook hands with 

 me, offered me coffee, and expressed pleasure at making 

 my acquaintance. 



Soon my difficulties were narrated, and when I started 

 on my return I had their assurance that they would 

 hurry and get yoked, as that was the direction they 

 were travelling, " and put me all to rights before they 

 left me." True to their word, they speedily put in an 

 appearance, and further, with their own cattle, trecked 

 me to the top of the next acclivity, leaving therefore 

 no difficulties in the way till I reached the town on 

 Bushman's River. For this service they would accept 

 nothing. On pressing the one who appeared the most 

 active in directing how to accomplish the task, he 

 quickly answered, "No, no; you would have done the 

 same for us." They were Englishmen from Norfolk, 

 who farmed land fifty miles to the eastward. They had 

 been about ten years in the country, and had done well. 



The road down to Bushman's Eiver is cut out of the 

 face of steep, rocky hills, covered with rather large tim- 

 ber for this part of Africa. The stream, which is 

 about the size of the Clyde at Hamilton, flows rapidly 

 over a very rough bottom. The descent to the bridge 

 that crosses it is very steep, and must not be attempted 



