The Journal of a Sporting Nomad 



to suit the owner, one of the features being a 

 distortion of the trigger guard. I was not pre- 

 pared for what happened. Both barrels went 

 off simultaneously, and the hammers hit me 

 over the right eyebrow, cutting my face pain- 

 fully, whilst the hippo disappeared like a flash 

 into deep water. 



I spent a week in Durban, and then went up 

 to Johannesburg. In those days the railway only 

 went as far as Standerton, the journey being 

 made thence to the mining town by coach. As 

 those days have long since passed, it may be of 

 interest if I publish a snapshot of the coach and 

 one of the teams. It was a most enjoyable 

 drive, the teams being changed often, and the 

 journey made more often than not at a gallop. 

 A nigger held the ribbons, whilst the whip was 

 manipulated by a white man. After a week 

 spent in Johannesburg, I returned to Cape Town, 

 thence to England, where I arrived after being 

 away from home just over twelve months. 



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