his grimy old fist gladly, knowing it was jonnick and 

 * a square deal.' 



That was Mungo Park the long, strong, low-built, 

 half-bred Basuto pony well-trained and without guile. 



I left Snowball with his previous owner, to use as 

 required, and never called back for him ; and if this 

 should meet the eye of Joey the Smith he will know 

 that I no longer hope his future life will be spent in 

 stalking a wart-eyed white horse in a phantom Bush- 

 veld. Mungo made amends. 



There was a spot between the Komati and Crocodile 

 rivers on the north side of the road where the white 

 man seldom passed and nature was undisturbed ; few 

 knew of water there ; it was too well concealed between 

 deep banks and the dense growth of thorns and large 

 trees. 



The spot always had great attractions for me apart 

 from the big game to be found there. I used to steal 

 along the banks of this lone water and watch the smaller 

 life of the bush. It was a delightful field for naturalist 

 and artist, but unfortunately we thought little of such 

 things, and knew even less ; and now nothing is left 

 from all the glorious opportunities but the memory of 

 an endless fascination and a few facts that touch the 

 human chord and will not submit to be forgotten. 



There were plenty of birds guinea-fowl, pheasant, 

 partridge, knoorhaan and bush pauw. Jock accom- 

 panied me of course when I took the fowling-piece, 

 but merely for companionship ; for there was no need 

 for him on these occasions. I shot birds to get a 

 change of food and trusted to walking them up along 



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