166 THE GREAT THIRST LAND. 



pursuers discovered his whereabouts, made a dash after 

 him, but not to be beaten, he turned round the front of 

 the wagon, cleared the dissel-boom in splendid style, 

 but, alas ! sent all my friend's cocoa, which he had been 

 taking so much trouble to cool, flying to the winds. 

 " Blast Poonah ! " was all he said. The language was 

 strong, but under the circumstances justifiable. 



I did not laugh, poor Morris was too ill ; but if it had 

 occurred to any one else, even to myself, I think I should 

 have, as Artemus Ward expresses it, "snickered over it." 



Before break of day the cattle were again in the 

 yoke. Before us lay a range of stony hills, possibly 

 eight or nine hundred feet above the plain, which 

 were sparsely covered with bushes. Through them 

 was a pass ; once over it we should see the long- 

 looked-for Potschefstrom. Although the road was 

 good, and the ascent gradual, the cattle seemed to 

 lag on the way. At length the sun rose a glorious 

 birth he had that morning, for there was not a cloud 

 to detract from his splendid brilliancy. The pass 

 is reached, on slowly we progress through it, and 

 suddenly, at a turn of the road, bursts on us a mag- 

 nificent extensive plain, margined with hills, in its 

 centre a small white town, almost smothered with 

 greenest poplar trees, blue gums, and willows. It is 

 Potschefstrom ! 



But although Potschefstrom is only about seven 

 miles off as the crow flies, yet the road of necessity 

 becoming tortuous from ravines, and one very bad 

 water-course, the Mooi river, we have to traverse quite 

 ten miles before reaching the outspanning-ground, a 

 mile to the westward of the town. From the name of 

 the river on which it stands, and which forms two 



