374 
AFRICAN HUNTING. 
Gordon Cumming’s most northerly point — a splen¬ 
did natural stone fountain, about nine feet deep, but 
so hidden that a stranger might pass close without 
the slightest hope or expectation of finding water 
from the nature of the country around, unless he 
were guided there by some friendly turtle-dove or 
Namaqua partridge. I have often been guided to 
water by these birds, or the croaking of frogs, which 
can be heard at a long distance in the deathlike 
quiet of our lovely star-light nights. 
I have just enjoyed a delicious swim in this foun¬ 
tain. I feel a little lonely, being without any com¬ 
panion with whom I can converse, with an immense 
expanse of country all around me, all wood, and not 
a trace of any human being. To-morrow I am about 
to strike an entirely new line of country; none of us 
know anything about it, but there are evident traces 
of late rains, and a probability of finding rain-water 
in vleys, which encourage me. to proceed, 
I intend treking as near due north as the country 
will allow, capturing a wandering Bushman when 
occasion offers, and pressing him into my service, until 
I get a substitute, or he makes his escape. The life is 
full of anxiety, excitement, hope, disappointment, 
satisfaction and pleasure, comforts, and the reverse; 
it has great charms in some respects, but it requires 
energy, determination, and perseverance. If my 
health is only spared me I have no fear, but my con¬ 
stitution is very much shaken ; I have a very poor 
appetite, and I live almost entirely on dry toast, cold 
