ce of his preferring to hunt and work at all times with shirt
sleeves rolled up above the elbows. Another struck me as having the
broadest pair of shoulders I ever saw in a man of his size.

"Capital water here," said Green to me, on alighting beside the
mimosa-thorn.

"Indeed," said I, thirsting for some, "where is it?"

"Here! come; I'll show you."

He led me to a spot among the bushes where lay a small pond of thin mud
the colour of weak tea with milk.

"There you are," said Green.

I looked at him inquiringly.

He looked at me and smiled.

I laughed.

Green grinned, and assured me that it was "first-rate water."

He dipped a cup, as he spoke, and drank it. So did his comrades, with
evident satisfaction, though the liquid was so opaque that I could not
see the bottom of a tea-cup when it was full.

There could be no further doubt on the point. These reckless and jovial
South Africans--European by extraction though they were, and without a
drop of black blood in their veins--had actually accommodated themselves
to circumstances so far as to consider liquid mud good water! More than
that, I found that most of the party deemed it a sufficient beverage,
for they were all temperance men, if not total abstainers. Still
further, I followed their example, drank of that yellow pond, and
actually enjoyed it. Subsequently I made the discovery that there were
small animals in it; after that I preferred it in the form of tea, which
was quickly infused by our active Hottentots.

The discovery above referred to was made when Green, (or Brownarms, or
Broadshoulders, I forget which), was quaffing a cup of the cold element.
Having drained it he spat out the last mouthful, and along with it a
lively creature like a small shrimp, with something like a
screw-propeller under its tail!

Enjoying our tea under the shade of the mimosa, we rested for an hour,
and then, saddling our steeds and slinging on rifles and
cartridge-pouches, we mounted, and sallied forth upon the plain.

A glorious sensation of freedom came over me as I felt my horse's
springy step,--a sensation which brought powerfully back the memory of
those days when I first galloped over the American prairies. Surely
there must be a sympathy, a mesmeric influence, between a horse and his
rider which sends a thrill through each. Hobson had lent me his own
favourite horse, Rob Roy. He was a charming creature; well made,
active, willing, and tender in the