hesitated as to the advisability of crossing in the darkness;
but the oxen were already in, the waggon was also nearly in the river,
and if allowed to stay for a few hours it would probably sink deeply in
the sand. So, leaving his men to pursue their own course, he also waded
in, while Dirk cracked his whip, Peter mounted on to the box and
followed suit, and Klipmann, the black bullock, headed on into the
stream. The shadowy-looking team could be dimly seen to straighten out;
there was a heavy pull at the waggon, and another, and another, before
its fore wheels were extricated from the sand in which they were sinking
fast, showing the wisdom of at once proceeding; and then, _plash_!
_plash_! and with the water rushing against them, the party began to
cross.

"My! how strong the current is," cried Jack.

"Take hold of the waggon, my boy," said Mr Rogers.

But as the water did not come up to his waist, Jack did not mind. And
so the heavy load was dragged slowly through the stream.

"I say, Jack," said Dick, suddenly, just as they started, "there are
crocodiles in these rivers, ain't there?"

"Oh, murther!" ejaculated Dinny, who had gone into the water very
unwillingly, and had wanted to ride, but Mr Rogers had refused to have
the waggon loaded any more, preferring himself to walk.

Then there was a rush and a splash, that passed unnoticed in the bustle
of crossing; and at the end of ten minutes, by the General's guidance
the team was led to a gentle slope, which they easily mounted, and
dragged the dripping waggon forth on to a level grassy plain.

The horses had followed, to stand about snorting and stamping, fresh and
bright with their bathe; and it was now determined, dark as it was, to
trek on for a couple of miles to a rich grassy spot that the General
said was ahead, and would be a good place for outspanning and camp, when
a dismal yell was heard from the farther shore.

"What's that?" exclaimed Mr Rogers.

But no one answered.

"Some one must be in the river," cried Dick, excitedly. "Where's
Coffee?"

"Here Coffee," cried the Zulu boy, who had quite accepted his name.

"Then who is it?" said Jack, looking round in the darkness. "Here's
Chicory."

"Why, it's Dinny," cried Dick. "Ahoy! Dinny!"

"Ahoy! Help now, Masther Dick, sor," came from some distance off.

"The poor fellow is being swept down the river," exclaimed Mr Rogers,
leaping on the bay to ford or swim down to the drowning man. "