to the ground next day. The best we could hope for 

 was to be sound enough to return to our own waggons 

 in two or three days' time. 



The camp was under a very large wild fig tree, 

 whose dense canopy gave us shade all through the 

 day. We had burnt the grass for some twenty or 

 thirty yards round as a protection against bush fires ; 

 and as the trees and scrub were not thick just there 

 it was possible to see in various directions rather 

 further than one usually can in the Bushveld. The 

 big tree was a fair landmark by day, and at night 

 we made a good fire, which owing to the position of 

 the camp one could see from a considerable distance. 

 These precautions were for the benefit of strayed or 

 belated members of the party ; but I mention them 

 because the position of the camp and the fire brought 

 us a strange visitor the last night of our stay there. 



There were, I think, seven white men ; and the 

 moving spirit of the party old Teddy Blacklow of 

 Ballarat was one of the old alluvial diggers, a warm- 

 hearted, impulsive, ever-young old boy, and a rare 

 good sportsman. That was Teddy, the * man in 

 muddy moleskins,' who stretched out the hand of 

 friendship when the Boy was down, and said " You 

 come along o' me ! " one of * God's sort.' 



Teddy's spirits were always up ; his presence 

 breathed a cheery optimism on the blankest day ; 

 his humour lighted everything ; his stories kept us 

 going ; and his language was a joy for ever. In a 

 community, in which such things savoured of eccen- 

 tricity, Teddy was an abstainer and never swore; 

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