HUNTING SPRINGBOKS. 69 



thirst. The sun was very powerful, and, notwithstand- 

 ing the heavy rains of the preceding evening, a drop of 

 water was nowhere to be found. 



In the afternoon I came to a pool of mud ; the little 

 water it contained was almost boiling; I was, however, 

 most thankful to find it, and tears of delight came into 

 my eyes on discovering it. How trifling was this to 

 the trials from thirst which I have often since under- 

 gone ! Shortly after this I fell in with my servant, 

 who, astonished at my long absence, had come in 

 search of me with the horses. I was right glad to fall 

 in with him, and, having got into the saddle, I rode 

 hard across the plain for my wagon. On my way thith- 

 er I took up a position behind a ridge, and directed Co- 

 bus to "jag" a herd of springbok toward me, which he 

 did most successfiilly, sending upward of a hundred of 

 thefn right in my teeth. I, however, was still unfor- 

 tunate, firing both barrels into the herd without doing 

 any apparent injury. On reaching my wagon, which 

 I found outspanned at the desolate abode of Mynheer 

 Hendric Strydom, I took a mighty draught of gin and 

 water, and then walked, followed by my interpreter 

 carrying a bottle of Hollands and glasses, to the door 

 of Strydom, to cultivate the acquaintance of himself 

 and frau, and wearing the garb of old Gaul, in which 

 I generally hunted during my first expedition, to the 

 intense surprise of the primitive Boers. Shaking Stry- 

 dom most cordially by the hand, I told him that I was 

 a "Berg Scot," or mountain Scotchman, and that it 

 was the custom in my country, when friends met, to 

 pledge one another in a bumper of spirits ; at the same 

 time, suiting the action to the word, I filled him a brim- 

 ming bumper. This was my invariable practice on 

 first meeting a Boer. I found it a never-failing meth- 



