AN END TO OUR MISERY. 391 



my bed in the wagon. He would not stop there, so I 

 had to leave him to hobble on the best way he could, 

 and retake my place in front. 



I had long resolved what to do if the wagon came 

 to a standstill namely, ride on with the cattle, and leave 

 the Kaffir to take charge of them, and bring back as much 

 water as I could carry. Several times I thought the 

 emergency had arrived to adopt this, but through my 

 hauling, and the Kaffir using his whip, we continued to 

 crawl slowly forward. 



Another yell. This time it is poor little Forty, the 

 gift of Mr. Mackenzie both hind legs broken. As she 

 lay on the road, incapable of further effort, I thought it 

 best to have her destroyed, yet I had not the heart to 

 take her life. So we moved forward about a couple of 

 hundred yards, when I sent the Kaffir back with his 

 assegai to do the deed I could not myself do. Soon he 

 returned. I asked him no questions ; I wished to know 

 nothing of the termination of my favourite's life. 



Again I hauled and pulled, the perspiration blinding 

 me, the dust choking me, while my throat was so dry that 

 I could not swallow. The cattle must go on to water 

 alone, another mile they cannot accomplish ; sending 

 them forward is our only salvation, when every ox 

 commenced to step out, then to walk fast, then trot, then 

 gallop. The dogs, even Bob on his three legs, rush on 

 ahead, and in an hour afterwards we are outspanned, each 

 bullock standing up to his middle gulping down filthy 

 water that lay in a hole in a dry river-bed. But foul as 

 this liquid was, all seemed to enjoy it ; the oxen filled 

 themselves to such an extent that as they moved up the 

 bank it ran in streams out of their mouths. The dogs 

 lay in it, and lapped and lapped again, while Umganey 



