THE PONG OLA. 
81 
instantly rushed in, a calf and the stem of a retreat¬ 
ing old cow was all the chance of a shot I got. In 
the excitement of the moment, I had forgotten all 
about the dog, and felt much mortified at the 
mischief she was the cause of; for I was perfectly 
cool and collected at these, my first elephants, and 
should most undoubtedly have got a good shot, 
even if I had not disabled, and eventually, perhaps, 
bagged one of the best of them. I never hailed 
anything with more joy than the Pongola : I was 
half dead from thirst, never having touched a drop 
of water all day; and the river was as cold, clear, 
and beautiful as any I ever saw. It is at this point 
about 100 yards wide, and its banks on both sides 
are covered with the wild fig-tree, which grows to 
an enormous size. 
After crossing the Pongola, and sleeping at 
Moputa’s, I was ready to start early on the 5th, but 
had to wait some time for the return of my Kaffir, 
Jack. When he arrived, I administered a little 
wholesome chastisement with a rhinoceros sjambok, 
and started on a long, heavy walk through deep sand, 
and finally arrived at a kraal, where I was greeted 
as usual by a set of noisy curs, which invariably, at 
the sight of a white man, tumble head-over-heels 
in all directions, upsetting everything, as frightened 
as if they had seen an apparition. After the first 
alarm they bait you unmercifully, and for many 
minutes it is impossible to hear yourself speak. I 
don’t know that I ever succeeded in making friends 
G 
