156 THE BUSHMEN. 



The next morning, Mr. Barrill found himself rather 

 sore, but much easier. The bruise on the shoulder had 

 ceased to pain. The ankle was swollen, and it was impos- 

 sible for him to tread upon the foot. He was eager to 

 move on, however, and proposed that we should at once 

 break up the camp that Carollus should take a rifle and 

 proceed with me on horseback, while he sat in the wagon, 

 and tried his hand at driving the oxen. I was indifferent 

 to all things, but the wishes of my kind friend, as re- 

 garded the course to be pursued, and, by sunrise we were 

 moving away from the fountain, in the vicinity of which 

 we had seen such excellent sport. The day was fine, the 

 route level and pleasantly varied with beauties of the 

 vegetable kingdom. 



Occasionally, we caught a glimpse of herds of antelope, 

 zebras, and quaggas, but they were too far away to tempt 

 my pursuit. Wretched Bushmen, more resembling filthy 

 apes than human beings, would sometimes start from holes 

 in the ridges, look at our wagons, in grinning surprise, 

 and then disappear so rapidly, that we could not attempt 

 to communicate with them. No people I had ever seen 

 not even the miserable Digger Indians, west of the Rocky 

 Mountains, in my dear native land, appeared to me to be 

 so near the level of the brute creation. Near about noon 

 we witnessed a singular race. It was the attempt of a 

 party of Bechuanas to run down an ostrich an exploit 



