28 TALES OF A NOMAD. 



the tree that would have afforded him shelter, and made 

 for a small thorn-tree. Before he could reach it, the 

 buffalo was upon him, and the nature of the wounds 



showed that W must have turned round facing it, 



when it tossed him into the tree, where he hung suspended- 

 The fierce brute then turned round and looked about 

 for another adversary. A certain native waggon-driver 

 named Indaman, who was carrying a gun, ran up and 

 took a shot, but being a bad marksman struck it too high 

 up on the shoulder. It instantly charged him, and was 

 on the point of tossing him when Somajuba fired and 

 rolled it over. 



We lifted poor W from the bush and laid him 



on the ground, but he never spoke again. The injuries 

 inflicted by the one toss were fearful, and it was impos- 

 sible that he could survive. 



The event cast a gloom over our party, and we buried 

 him in silence and despondency under a large tree. It 

 startled me at the time, and made me somewhat careful ; 

 but the feeling wore off, and I am sorry to say I did 

 many rash things, until I, too, had a misfortune, but was 

 enabled to escape with my life. It was as follows : 



We were encamped at Fatihulu on the bank of the 

 Usutu River. I had been unwell for two or three days 

 and had been confined to the camp. One evening I 

 thought I would take a stroll along the bank of the river 

 to shoot meat for the camp. As the hunters had been 

 firing all round the camp, I had no idea of meeting 

 buffaloes, and only took a single-barrelled small-bore rifle 

 with me. I went out accompanied by two of my 

 Caffres, Langa and Pandela respectively by name. I 

 also took one dog. 



We proceeded along the bank until we reached a 



