NEW YEAR ON THE VELDT 235 



Johannesburg, and beyond a few isolated farms and an 

 occasional roadside store or drinking saloon, we seemed 

 far enough away from bricks and mortar, or, rather, 

 corrugated iron and darga. Very little time was spent 

 over the al fresco meal that we were pleased to call 

 breakfast ; the mules were inspanned, and away we went 

 again, jolting and bumping over the nullah-crossed, 

 boulder-strewn highway. 



Every here and there a faauw, or korhaan, was 

 sighted in the distance, and more than one covey of 

 francolin either rose or ran over the veldt well within shot 

 of the waggon. The greater part of the veldt was beaconed 

 out into farms, much being enclosed within barbed wire ; 

 and not wishing to come to loggerheads with the owners 

 of the land, who were mostly Dutchmen, we agreed not 

 to pull trigger until arriving at our destination. 



The last portion of the trek, which led across a vast 

 expanse of treeless kopje-flanked veldt, proved uninter- 

 esting enough, and our little party was not sorry when a 

 glimpse of de V 's low but picturesque white home- 

 stead, standing amidst emerald fields of growing wheat, 

 barley, and mealies, was caught. 



A venerable -looking patriarch was Jan de V , stand- 

 ing well over six feet in his stockings, and with a long white 

 flowing beard that almost covered his broad and powerful 

 chest. Unlike many of his brethren, de V was a well- 

 educated and courtly old gentleman ; and although his 

 travels had taken him no farther than Cape Town, he had 

 read deeply, and was very well versed in European 



