AFRICAN CAMP FIRES ^ 



time the leaders respond to the command and throw 

 themselves forward in the yoke. In vain. They 

 cannot pull the wagon and their wheel comrades too. 

 Therefore they give up. By this time, perhaps, the 

 lash has aroused the first lot to another effort. And 

 so they go, pulling and hauling against each other, 

 getting nowhere, until the end is an exhausted team, 

 a driver half insane, and a great necessity for un- 

 loading. 



A good driver on the other hand, shrieks a few 

 premonitory Dutch words — and then! I suppose 

 inside those bovine heads the effect is somewhat that 

 of a violent electric explosion. At any rate it hits 

 them all at once; and all together, in response, they 

 surge against their yokes. The heavily laden wagon 

 creaks, groans, moves forward. The hurricane of 

 Dutch and the volleys of whip crackings rise to a 

 crescendo. We are off"! 



To perform just this little simple trick of getting 

 the thing started requires not only a peculiar skill 

 or gift, but also lungs of brass and a throat of iron. 

 A transport rider without a voice is as a tenor in 

 the same fix. He may — and does — get so hoarse 

 that it is a pain to hear him; but as long as he can 

 croak in good volume he is all right. Mere shouting 

 will not do. He must shriek, until to the sym- 

 pathetic bystander it seems that his throat must 



272 



