Then came one black day as we crawled slowly 

 along the river bank, which is not to be forgotten. 

 In one of the cross-spruits cutting sharply down to the 

 river the second waggon stuck : the poor tired-out 

 cattle were too weak and dispirited to pull it out. 

 Being short of drivers and leaders it was necessary to 

 do the work in turns, that is, after getting one waggon 

 through a bad place, to go back for another. We had 

 to double-span this waggon, taking the span from the 

 front waggon back to hook on in front of the other ; 

 and on this occasion I led the span while Jim drove. 

 We were all tired out by the work and heat, and I lay 

 down in the dusty road in front of the oxen to rest 

 while the chains were being coupled up. I looked up 

 into old Zwaartland's eyes, deep, placid, constant, 

 dark grey eyes the ox-eyes of which so many speak 

 and write and so few really know. There was 

 trouble in them ; he looked anxious and hunted ; and 

 it made me heart-sick to see it. 



When the pull came, the back span, already dis- 

 heartened and out of hand, swayed and turned every 

 way, straining the front oxen to the utmost ; yet 

 Zwaartland took the strain and pulled. For a few 

 moments both front oxen stood firm ; then his mate 

 cut it and turned ; the team swung away with a rush, 

 and the old fellow was jerked backwards and rolled 

 over on his side. He struggled gamely, but it was 

 some minutes before he could rise ; and then his eye 

 looked wilder and more despairing; his legs were 

 planted apart to balance him, and his flanks were 

 quivering. 

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