A Breath from the Veldt 73 



refrain, in the middle of which he would break off suddenly with demoniacal 

 shrieks and laughter, ending with what he considered his masterpiece of the 

 English language, " Yes, I am Prince, Prince of the Devils." 



On the first of May we entered the bush veldt, which at once becomes both 

 interesting and beautiful, the country changing suddenly from the weary and 

 monotonous uplands of grass to beautiful parks of fine trees and bush surrounded 

 on all sides with lovely blue mountains. This practically continues, with one 

 interruption in the form of the high veldt, for two days north of Pietersburg, 

 right to the Limpopo, and though the country is ill-watered, the presence of 

 trees, birds, little bucks, and distant blue ranges of hills serve to make the 

 journey interesting to the traveller who sees it for the first time. The descent 

 into the bush veldt was most picturesque, being a sheer drop down the mountain 

 side of 800 to 1000 feet. The road, if it may be so called, is the very worst in 

 existence, being nothing but a series of loose rocks and boulders, down which the 

 waggon with wheels tied simply fell. We found out afterwards that this road 

 is seldom used by waggoners, being regarded as almost impassable, a road round 

 " Rhinaster-Kop," some twenty miles westward, being preferred. My waggon 

 being very strong, and having been lately done up, passed through the ordeal 

 all right, but Teenie's did not come off so well, the langwaggon being smashed, 

 and the pole of the after axle being broken in two. This necessitated repairs, 

 and I had to wait for three days whilst the broken waggon was sent to 

 Rhinaster-Kop to be put right. This delay was rather galling. On the 3rd 

 we got off again, and had some difficulty in crossing the Wilgah River, having 

 to double span — that is, to fasten both spans of oxen, in all thirty-two, to each 

 waggon separately — to get through the river, the sand being up to the axles, 

 and the water pretty heavy. During the afternoon we crossed a nasty series of 

 broken sandpits, and in one particularly bad place which my waggon narrowly 

 escaped, Teenie's waggon following closely behind turned completely over, 

 Piet and the whole of its contents being deposited on the veldt. Luckily 

 nothing was smashed, though it caused some delay, and we continued our 

 journey till far into the night. Next morning, riding off the track, I had 

 pretty good sport with the birds, getting six Vaal khoorhans and four red-wing 

 francolins. 



About mid- day a horseman came riding towards us, and saluted 

 Piet and Teenie, who were riding some distance from me. This proved 

 to be " Hert " (pronounced, " Shert ") Knell, the stepson of Roelef van Staden. 

 He was a fine, big, strong fellow, with a good-natured face, and I afterwards 



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