CHAPTER XI11. 



BUSH-VELD AND OTHER TREKS AND 

 ADVENTURES. 



My first shooting trip to the bush-veld was with 

 Hendrick Vermeulen. He laughed at me for shooting 

 the guinea fowl and francolin on the wing, and said 

 he would show me how to shoot ! Near a spring at 

 " Varkfontein," where birds came to drink in the 

 evening, he laid a long line of mealies in the open, 

 then hid with his old long flint-lock gun behind a 

 bush, and when the poor guinea fowl were in a dense 

 row he fired and shot, to my horror but to his great 

 satisfaction, no less than fourteen in one discharge. 

 His old flint-lock caused me much amusement, as it 

 frequently missed fire after he had stalked game 

 with infinite trouble, then he would fairly dance 

 with rage, and rub the flint and pan on the rim pf 

 his hat to brighten them up. 



On one of the early September trips in Natal 

 we were outspanned in green grass across the Vaal 

 river on a Sunday and game came temptingly near 

 to the wagons, but I made a rule not to shoot on 

 Sunday, the day of rest. Dolf Jansen, my Boer 

 wagon driver and conductor, could not withstand 

 the temptation, so he crawled up a donga to stalk 

 wildebeest. I watched him through my glasses and 

 every time he aimed at one, I heliographed with a 

 looking-glass on to the wildebeest, which jumped 

 away. At last Jansen came back and said now he 

 believed that it was wicked to shoot on Sunday, 

 because although he was certain that the wildebeest 

 could not see him, every time he was about to 



