TALES OF A NOMAD. 



CHAPTER I. 



A RIDE FOR DEAR LIFE. 



A FRONTIERSMAN'S YARN. 



THROUGH plains covered with sparse thorn-bushes the 

 Olifants River wends its way. Here it is about fifty yards 

 wide, and is fringed with reeds on either bank. It is the 

 dry season, and the current, which at times would sweep 

 away men, horses, and waggons, has dwindled down till 

 at almost any point a lad of twelve could cross with ease 

 and safety. 



The withered vegetation, the bushes devoid of leaf and 

 grey with thorns, display the effects of drought and of 

 nightly frosts ; but everywhere the broad-bladed twitch- 

 grass, perennially green, abounds in quantity sufficient 

 to keep cattle and horses in excellent condition through- 

 out the winter. 



To the eastward the rugged, forbidding-looking ranges 

 of mountain which here constitute the frontier of 

 Matshila's-land, stand up in clear relief against the un- 

 clouded sky. Every crag, bush and rivulet are as dis- 

 tinct to the naked eye at four miles distance as they 



