I have seen hundreds of springbucks sold for a shilling
apiece; blesbucks and wildebeeste for half a crown. The tails of the
latter were in great demand for use as "chowries" wherewith to keep off
the flies. I have seen a pound of fresh butter sold for seventeen and
sixpence, a dish of peas for thirty shillings, and a head of cabbage
for thirty five. The latter prices were, of course, quite exceptional.

Shortly after the summer of 1871 set in, I, in common with many others,
went down with enteric fever. Doctors were plentiful enough, but there
was no hospital, and nurses were unknown. However, with the help of a
sound constitution I managed to keep alive on a diet of black coffee
and roster koek administered by our Hottentot, David. My most painful
recollections of that horrible time are connected with the plague of
flies. These gave one no rest, night or day, for at night the slightest
movement of the canvas set them buzzing. Better men than I died in
every direction. I got the notion that I, too, would inevitably die
unless I could manage to get away, so by an effort of will I crawled
out of bed and took a passage in the coach for Queenstown.

I collapsed a few hours after starting, but the other passengers were
very kind. The coach was so arranged that they sat facing each other in
a double row, so they made a couch for me with rugs laid on their
knees, and on this I rested. I reached Queenstown more dead than alive,
but a few days of rest there picked me up, and I managed to survive the
post-cart journey to King William's Town.

A few weeks at home, followed by a trip to the seaside near the
Tshalumna Mouth, completed my recovery. No sooner was I well than an
overpowering desire to return to the diamond-fields took possession of
me. A military rummage-sale was held at King William's Town, and at
this I noticed a "condemned" commissariat wagon, which seemed (barring
that it wanted a coat of paint) to have nothing whatever the matter
with it. It was knocked down to me for 5, and I spent 8 on having it
repaired and painted, and in providing the necessary tackle. This wagon
was the best wagon of its kind I have ever owned or traveled in. What
caused it to be classed as "condemned" was a problem none but a
military man could hope to solve. I also purchased eight strong oxen.

One day when strolling along one of the King William's Town streets I
gained a sense that something large and familiar was approaching.
Memory