DEATH OF THE BASUTO PONY. 271 



cough, coming from its very vitals, and so severe that 

 you would almost expect it to wrench the victim in two. 

 That cough once heard will never be forgotten, and 

 when it hreaks the stillness of the night must fill the 

 hunter's heart with anguish. Poor pony, I could do 

 nothing for him ; he lay down and got up, stood over 

 the cooking-fire, haunted Umganey and myself. At 

 last darkness came ; I retired to the privacy of my 

 sanctuary, but that fearful, incessant cough kept me 

 awake, sleep was impossible ; about midnight a more 

 severe attack of it took place, accompanied by griping. 

 The struggles caused me to come out of the wagon. 

 Umganey was before me ; silently, I joined his side, while 

 he stood and looked on. I spoke a few kind words to 

 the sufferer, and even in its intense agony it raised its 

 head as if expressing thanks for the sympathy. But a 

 more severe spasm than the previous one came ; the 

 victim tried to regain its legs, spun round in the effort, 

 and fell a few kicks, a perceptible shiver, a quantity of 

 spume rushed from the nostrils, and all was over. 

 Umganey said nothing, but seemed to think much ; I 

 heaved a sigh, the depth and earnestness of which are 

 seldom rivalled by those who deplore the loss of their 

 friends. 



Next day we made a very long treck ; when we left 

 our encampment almost every tree had a vulture in 

 it, and every bush contained a jackal or hyaena. I 

 should like to have stolen back and witnessed the on- 

 slaught, had not poor pony's carcase played so prominent 

 a part in it. At night we reached the last bend of the Lim- 

 popo, for whereas it has been flowing north previously, 

 from this part it turns abruptly, and flows almost directly 

 east. The scenery here is remarkably pretty, rolling 



