A LONG CHASE. 
237 
and adventure may lead me, and if the Kaffirs don’t 
turn me back, or, worse still, make an end of me, 
it will be a hard matter if I don’t make a good 
hunt. I entertain no fears whatever of the Kaffirs, 
who are the means of keeping nearly all the Boers 
from penetrating so far. I never listen to their 
threats, or the most likely exaggerated stories I hear 
from my own people of them. Now for a cup of 
tea. 
23rd .—I have been resting the last three days, to 
recruit my oxen, at a place called Nkowani, but have 
not been idle myself. We got the first water at 
Mahaccan, where there are pits six or seven feet 
deep in the limestone rock. The water is not very 
bad to the taste, but smells abominably, and I make 
it a rule to drink as little as possible except in the 
shape of tea or coffee, or else with a small dash of 
brandy, and so avoid dysentery. I had a very long 
chase after a giraffe yesterday. I was very badly 
mounted on Manelle, a short, punchy cob, without 
any speed about him, but I eventually tired out 
the giraffe, and bagged at the fifth shot. I had been 
firing in despair at about 500 yards, and at length 
succeeded in hitting her through the buttock. I am 
ashamed to say my spurs were so clogged with 
old Manelle’s hair as to be of no further service in 
the chase. My after-rider, mounted on Final, brought 
the giraffe round to me, when Manelle declined to 
budge another step, and I gave the giraffe the bullet 
in the right place. On off-saddling Manelle, I found, 
