in the Guard’s Van.



377



the Transvaal and the Orange River Colony, but it was a long train,,

and when we came to the Hex River Mountains, I forgot—or had

never known—that the train would be divided into two ; and sitting

unconcernedly in the guard’s van, I saw to my disgust the front

part of the train pull out of the station, bearing with it my bed and

my dinner.


There was nothing at all to be done. I thought of many

impossible schemes ; searched vainly for food in the few minutes left

to us at the way-side station in the desert, and finally plunged back

into my guard’s van, hungry, furious and perfectly helpless !


I slept in the chair and ate some of the birds’ over-ripe fruit

for dinner, but when, on the following day I missed my breakfast

and luncheon (seeing them steam off in front of my nose each time)

I was more than exasperated.


At this point I sat down and composed a telegram which

made all the station-masters down the line sit up and take notice,

and just before dinner as that wretched front half of the train was

again moving off, I did a desperate sprint and got on board.


I had a few brief words with the guard and then got my last

three meals all in one, and made up for lost time.


The guards on the South African lines are usually English, or

of English-speaking parentage, and are easily dealt with as long as

they are decently treated. I have many pleasant recollections of

them and many long talks and discussions stored up in my memory.


As the train ‘ clumped ’ clumsily down the long reaches from

the high veldt to the sea, my guard and I discussed the affairs of the

nations. Men long from home questioned me hungrily, interspersing

bits of personal narrative.


“ What pay did the guards get now on the S.E.? and the

engine drivers ? Tom Hog'ben ’e went crazy one day driving ’is

engine and never noticed the signals.”


“ But I wouldn’t go back now. I’ve got used to this country

though I thought as I never would.”


And then the usual old accustomed query : Do you know a

little bird, Sir ? ’e lives in bush and I’ve seen ’im sitting on a

branch and singing most beautiful! e’s a sort of grey and ’is legs

are yellow and ’is tail black—at least I think it is. I can't exactly



