A MORNING AMBUSCADE ON WITTEBERG. 269 



renowned for the cleanliness or delicacy of their 

 viands, but our worthy entertainers are exceptions, 

 perhaps Tobias's Huguenot descent has transmitted 

 to him traces of the neatness and the culinary 

 propensities of his Gallic ancestors. The plates are 

 clean, the knives and forks strangely bright, and the 

 stew is delicious. Our meal is finished off with 

 honey literally " out of the stony rock," for the caves 

 in the kloofs around furnish a rich and perennial 

 store of magnificent wild honey. Coffee and some 

 very decent Boer brandy and water wash down our 

 repast, and pipes and Boer tobacco — the latter very 

 good of its kind — wind up the feast. Then we have 

 an hour's chat with Tobias, chiefly of anecdotes 

 concerning the fierce Bushmen, who, not so many 

 years since, infested these mountains and harassed 

 the farmer's flocks ; and nine o'clock finds us all 

 asleep — Tobias and vrouw behind their partition, 

 ourselves snugly enwrapped in our blankets on the 

 floor. Our sleep was sound while it lasted, but it 

 seemed scarce an hour since we had dropped off" 

 when Tobias awakened us at one o'clock. 



It was yet dark within doors, and a light had to 

 be procured. Then we took up our rifles, slung on 

 our cartridge bandoliers, strapped up three of our 

 big bush rugs, and issued forth into the chilly 

 morning. The moon was up, and it was not difficult 

 to distinguish near objects ; and as the little 

 Dutchman led the way, we followed him pretty 

 comfortably by two and two up a narrow track, that 

 led first up a small kloof, well clothed with stunted 

 olive trees, through which we emerged upon the 

 rough mountain-side. Then followed a tough, and 

 not altogether agreeable scramble over rocks and 



