the threat that if he
stole more gin he would be handed over to a magistrate--when we
met one.

On the following day we reached the hot, low-lying veld which the
herd of buffalo was said to inhabit. Next morning, however, when
we were making ready to begin hunting, a Basuto Kaffir appeared
who, on being questioned, said that he was one of Sekukuni's
people sent to this district to look for two lost oxen. I did
not believe this story, thinking it more probable that he was a
spy, but asked him whether in his hunt for oxen he had come
across buffalo.

He replied that he had, a herd of thirty-two of them, counting
the calves, but that they were over the Oliphant's River about
five-and-twenty miles away, in a valley between some outlying
hills and the rugged range of mountains, beyond which was
situated Sekukuni's town. Moreover, in proof of his story he
showed me spoor of the beasts heading in that direction which was
quite a week old.

Now for my part, as I did not think it wise to get too near to
Sekukuni, I should have given them up and gone to hunt something
else. Anscombe, however, was of a different opinion and pleaded
hard that we should follow them. They were the only herd within
a hundred miles, he said, if indeed there were any others this
side of the Lebombo Mountains. As I still demurred, he
suggested, in the nicest possible manner, that if I thought the
business risky, I should camp somewhere with the wagon, while he
went on with Footsack to look for the buffalo. I answered that I
was well used to risks, which in a sense were my trade, and that
as he was more or less in my charge I was thinking of him, not of
myself, who was quite prepared to follow the buffalo, not only to
Sekukuni's Mountains but over them. Then fearing that he had
hurt my feelings, he apologized, and offered to go elsewhere if I
liked. The upshot was that we decided to trek to the Oliphant's
River, camp there and explore the bush on the other side on
horseback, never going so far from the wagon that we could not
reach it again before nightfall.

This, then, we did, outspanning that evening by the hot but
beautiful river which was still haunted by a few hippopotamus and
many crocodiles, one of which we shot before turning in. Next
morning, having breakfasted off cold guineafowl, we mounted,
crossed the river by a ford that was quite as deep as I liked, to
which the Kaffir path led us, and, leaving Footsack with the two
othe