between the Kei River and the Keiskamma, with the exception of the then
insignificant town of East London and a small area in its vicinity, was
almost uninhabited. It was the custom for practically, all Kaffrarian
stock-farmers to trek down to the coast with their stock for the three
winter months. Then the range of forest-clothed sandhills forming the
coastline held a succession of camps. The scenery was enchanting; every
valley brimmed with evergreen forest, and between the valleys sloped
downs, clothed with rich grass.

Game was abundant, and the lagoon at the mouth of every stream piercing
the line of sandhills teemed with fish. The trek period was looked upon
as one of holiday. Care was thrown to the winds; picnics, hunting, and
sea-bathing were the order of the day. Social gatherings took place
alternately at the various camps not too distant from each other. More
or less impassable estuaries, where the larger streams broke through to
the sea, divided the coast tract into so many separate blocks.

Horses were plentiful; probably every individual, not too old or too
young to ride, had at least one mount available. Young men and maidens
thought nothing of riding ten miles to tea, and riding back in the
starlight when the gathering broke up. Homely song and the strains of
the now much despised concertina mingled with the softened thunder of
the surf, and, borne by the mild breath of the sea wind, no doubt
surprised the wild creatures whose sanctuaries we had invaded. I have
since heard some of the greatest singers and instrumentalists, but no
music has ever given me such joy as those rudimentary strains listened
to at night in a clearing of the forest near the mouth of the Gonubie
River, with the chastened resonance of the Indian Ocean surf as an
accompaniment.

I often recall our bathing. The beach was level and sandy, not a reef
nor even a rock was within sight. Immense rollers fugitives from the
wrath of far-off tempests used to sweep in continuously. Just before
breaking these would tower aloft, their fine-drawn crests poised for an
instant in the sunlight. Our favorite sport was among these waves. We
would buffet our way out to the breaking zone. Then, as the mighty,
walls of glistening water swept up, we would drive through them, one by
one, or else lie flat on the water in the hollow, side to the advancing
wave. In the latter case the wave would pick the bather up with a
sudden swing, poise him for an insta