114 THE GREAT THIRST LAND. 



All is in readiness ; the cattle are yoked, and the 

 treck-tow is stretched out to its greatest length. The 

 drivers have taken their places William in front, Pater 

 in the middle, and Hendrick (as the most skilled Jehu) 

 behind, while Morris and I are instructed to follow close 

 after with a large stone in our hands, which is to be 

 jammed under the hind wheels whenever the wagon 

 stops, or we hear the word " Klip " shouted. 



The sun had long gone down, but we had a grand 

 moon one that seemed much overgrown, still had lost 

 none of its brilliancy by the process. 



Hendrick passes the signal to the other drivers to 

 know if they are ready ; having received a favourable 

 reply, with good bass voice he shouts " Amba treck" the 

 words being echoed by each of the others, and off moves 

 the wagon in gallant style. For about a hundred yards 

 our course is over the sward, after that comes an abrupt 

 turn entering a steep incline, and the ascent has begun. 

 For a hundred yards or more it was a tremendous pull, 

 but as it was the start, the oxen were comparatively 

 fresh, and no stones were required ; but in fifty yards 

 more "Klip !" was called out, and my friend and I did 

 the klipping, Hendrick at the same time rushing behind 

 to the rear of the wagon to put on the brake. 



Now, this klipping may be a playful amusement 

 for some people, but Morris and myself very soon came 

 to the conclusion that it bore a very strong resemblance 

 to hard work, with every probability of getting your 

 fingers crushed or yourself run over. Neither was it a 

 joke to carry a rock about twenty-five pounds in weight 

 up a hill mountain, I should say far more favourable 

 for the progression of goats or Shetland ponies than 

 human beings. Though seeing the matter in this light, 



