.

It was not until the second time I stayed with him that old Cornelis Van
Vuuren began to open his heart, and to pour fitfully into my ears, from
the rich storehouse of his memory, many a strange tale of veldt life. I
had been fortunate enough to render some little service to a son of the
Van Vuurens, far up in the hunting veldt; and these kindly, if somewhat
uncouth, South African Dutch folk do not lightly forget such matters.
When I passed through the Orange Free State on my way to Natal, in the
year 1880, I stayed for a night at the Van Vuurens' farm. The good
people received me with the greatest hospitality, and Cornelis pressed
me to stay longer. I was unable to do so at that time; but later, on my
way up-country, I outspanned at Nooitgedacht, and stayed several nights.

That name, Nooitgedacht (never give in), bestowed years ago upon the
farm, well indicates the strong and stubborn character of old Cornelis
Van Vuuren, its owner. There were some springboks and blesboks running
on the place--remnants of those mighty herds of game which formerly
blackened the Free State plains.

During the daytime I shot a few head of buck--I wanted some blesbok
heads as specimens--and at evening, after supper, as we sat out beneath
the warm starlight, Cornelis would open up, and yarn to me in a way
that, until you know him well, the Boer seldom manifests to the
_rooinek_ [Literally, Red-neck--a Boer name for Englishmen].

What experiences the old man had had! In his youth he had been a great
hunter, and had followed the elephants far into the interior before
Gordon Cumming's time. In those days ivory was plentiful throughout the
north of the Transvaal. Many and many a rich load of tusks had Cornelis
brought down-country. One of the first to penetrate into the Sabi River
country and Gazaland, he had reaped a rich reward. So well had he done,
that by 1863 he had practically retired from the hunting veldt, having
amassed enough money and cattle to settle down on one of the best farms
in the Free State. Here, at the time I knew him, he was living in a
roomy, comfortable farmhouse--one of the best Dutch homesteads I have
entered. Groves of fruit trees flourished round about; the well-tilled
"lands" grew enough grain for a pastoral farmer's needs; upon the 10,000
acre run large herds of cattle, sheep, goats, and horses flourished.
Most of the children had grown up, and been duly married off long since.
Only Franz Van Vuur