FRANCOLIN AND FLIGHT SHOOTING 245 



shooting waggon, whicli was fitted out with the complete 

 paraphernaha for a shooting trip, and drawn by a span 

 of right good Argentine mules. A team of handsome 

 liver and white pointers accompanied the expedition, and, 

 of course, the usual Kaffir driver and servants. 



We soon drew clear of the town, and, " encouraged " 

 by an occasional sounding cut from the huge raw-hide 

 whip — which only the Boer or native driver knows how 

 to handle properly — together with volleys of unearthly 

 yells from Mamba, our Basuto driver, the mules set for- 

 ward at a slapping pace ; and after one or two stoppages 

 to water the animals we outspanned at Krugersdorp, the 

 scene of Dr Jim's surrender. In the cool of the evening, 

 after a halt of some four hours' duration, we inspanned 

 the mules again, and treked on towards our shooting 

 grounds, which were reached about noon the following 

 day, without any event worthy of mention having been 

 met with on the way. 



The spot chosen for our camp was on the banks of a 

 small klip-river, the name of which has escaped my 

 memory ; but I was told it was a tributary of the Vaal. 

 Towering above the stream, and stretching away to the 

 southward until lost below the skyline, was a long range 

 of boulder -strewn hills known as Gatt's Rand, while about 

 two miles distant from our outspan was a small lagoon 

 of about sixty acres, which shimmered under the rays of 

 the fierce sun like a jewel set in an endless expanse of 

 brown, burned -up, level waste. As every traveller 

 knows, there are a hundred and one things to be done when 



