40 TALES OF A NOMAD. 



The next day we hunted back to the main camp at 

 Gumban, killing on the way. Gumban presented a 

 lively appearance our tent was formed by a large wag- 

 gon sail stretched over a ridge pole. Quantities of beef 

 and marrow bones were hanging on all the bushes and a 

 couple of score of hides were pegged out to dry in the sun. 



Old Mr. T , our cook and factotum, welcomed us 



with : " I'm glad you've had good luck. I'm main glad 

 to see you come back, for I'm always dreading that some 

 day or other you will get more than you bargained for 

 out of these here buffaloes. Here is Umtyityizelwa just 

 arrived in a nice condition. They carried him in a 

 blanket slung on a pole. He will live, but he won't be 

 able to get about for another two or three months." 



"Why, what's the matter with him?" 



" Oh, nothing particular only a buffalo been dancing 

 on top of him. Luckily it was too sick to do for him 

 completely, and dropped dead beside him. Catch me 

 going after buffaloes never I'd sooner be a Chinese 

 Mandarian (sic). And you calls it sport pretty sport 

 indeed, a getting mashed up like a potato well, well ! 

 some people has curious ideas of what is enjoyable ; I 

 suppose it is in the nature of them give me a quiet pipe, 

 a glass of something warm, and a rubber. There is one 

 comfort, any way, buffaloes doesn't send you in bills 

 when they kills you same as doctors does, and funeral 

 expenses aren't a heavy item in this part of the country." 1 



1 On 6th August the thoughts of the author persistently reverted to his 



friend John C , whom he had not seen for fifteen years. He sat down 



at once and wrote this chapter, and read it to a person who was present. 

 On the following morning, yth August, he received a copy of the Natal 



Witness, date of issue loth July, in which was the announcement of C 's 



death by a fall from his horse. This may have been a conicidence, but 

 it also suggests more than a coincidence. 



