440 
AFRICAN HUNTING. 
my stead, when (if ever) my lost wagon makes its 
appearance, as the Bequinas will not otherwise allow 
it to pass. 
I am now left almost entirely to my own resources 
to manage wagon and oxen over a heavy path, and 
some very ugly drifts and places. My Maccalacas, 
though willing enough, are surprisingly stupid, and 
we cannot understand one another a bit, and had 
all but broken the wagon twice yesterday from short 
turning and losing the spoor; but they will, it is to 
be hoped, improve as they go on. 
I got a supply of bread, sugar, and coffee from Mr. 
Schroeder, and a few beads also, and two sheep. He 
treated me more than hospitably; my difficulties 
and hardships are now only things to be looked back 
upon, and I am none the worse, though they thought 
me very lean and fine-drawn, and stuffed me, during 
my stay, as they do a Norfolk turkey ten days before 
Christmas ; Germans feed in such an extraordinary 
manner. I had boiled rice and raisins, cinnamon and 
nutmeg, boiled dried peaches, a lot of fried very fat 
mutton swimming in grease, pancakes and sugar, all 
piled up on my plate at once. I begged and implored 
them to stop, and when Mr. Schroeder, as a climax, 
poured some yellow fluid, which I took to be melted 
butter, but which proved to be vinegar, over all this 
compound, I need hardly say I had a bilious headache 
all the following day, as I was ravenously hungry, and 
saw through most of it, and then drank coffee to an 
enormous extent. There were all the ingredients for 
