NARROW ESCAPES FROM DROWNING. 
355 
was very low, about up to the girths. I was leaning 
back rifle in hand, my feet foolishly in the stirrups, 
on each side of his neck, when the horse fell over 
some big stones. The stream immediately turned 
him over on his back, and, on regaining his 
legs, my left foot had got fast in the stirrup, my 
head and shoulders were under water, and I could 
just scrape the bottom with my hands as the sluggish 
Kaffir horse continued quietly walking on, and I was 
fast drowning, when I succeeded in grasping him 
firmly above the knee with my right hand, raising 
myself with my utmost strength, throwing my left 
arm up trying to grasp something. Most fortunately, 
the horse had a very long mane, and I succeeded in 
catching hold of it: I thus contrived to keep my 
head just above water, until, deliberately walking on 
at the same pace, he landed. I had imbibed a great 
quantity of water, and was very sick and ill with a 
horrid dizziness in my head, and singing in my ears 
for some time after. I lost my rifle, but after a long 
search succeeded, with my companion’s assistance, in 
recovering it. 
I have never crossed a river since then with my 
feet in the stirrups, nor ever will. My foot had 
turned round in the stirrup, and my instep was a 
good deal hurt. My horse was, fortunately, very 
quiet, as almost all Kaffir animals are. 
The Tugela is one of the most serious obstacles 
to travellers, and I have had many adventures on 
different drifts. I was once returning from Overberg 
