THE RIVER BEAUCLEKKY. 
281 
starved Masaras. Bad news awaited my return. 
Leche’s former owners were at the wagon, in a strong 
force, bringing back the old musket, broken, as I felt 
sure would be the case after a few shots, and insisting 
upon another gun, or his being returned. After a 
long talk, in vain, I was obliged to give him up—most 
reluctantly, however, as I had become quite fond of 
him, and I knew the poor little urchin’s fate. There 
is nothing but starvation and ill treatment staring 
him in the face, but I can do nothing alone amidst 
hordes of savages; besides, I must allow that they 
are this time decidedly in the right, and brought 
back the last thing I gave in exchange most punc¬ 
tiliously. They offered to take another gun, but I 
have only two left, both valuable weapons. 
We bade a long good-bye to-day to the beautiful 
river Beauclekky. I shall, most probably, never 
again see it, as I am greatly disappointed in the 
country altogether, from the great scarcity and wild¬ 
ness of the game, and the varieties, which constitute, 
in my estimation, the greatest charm in shooting, 
being few. Since leaving Natal this time, however, 
I have shot six varieties new to me, which is in 
itself worth the whole time, expense, and distance, 
in my opinion. I am always on the look-out for a 
new kind of buck, and make every possible enquiry 
from the natives, and examine every kaross they draw. 
Every man has his hobby, and this is mine, and I 
have no one here to please but myself; and, barring 
the coast sickness, which is a little hard to bear, I 
