BUSHMAN AS AN ENEMY--A DUTCH HUNTER--GALLANT DEFENCE--A COCKNEY
TRAVELLER--BOER INCREDULITY--BRITISH DISBELIEF--ADVENTURE WITH A
BUSHMAN--AFRICAN RIVERS--CHANGE OF SENTIMENTS.

During another visit of some months at Pietermaritzburg, where I had
some excellent reitbok and ourebi shooting, I accepted an invitation to
a friend's residence near the sources of the Umganie. A night passed
under the canopy of heaven was never to me a matter much to be feared,
if good sport was the result; and these residences on the border of the
game country made very good starting points for two or three days'
roughing it in the open plains. With my two horses and a Kaffir, I
started with a very vague idea as to the position of my friend's
residence. I crossed the Umganie near the falls, and struck off to the
left of the road that leads to Bushman's River, and after riding about
three hours, I made inquiry from some Kaffirs whom I met about the
distance I was to go. Their explanation of distance is by the single
word _hide_; it expresses how long, from a day's journey to a mile, the
_ku_ being dwelt on for about ten seconds, means a long way. When it is
spoken quickly, the place asked for is close; in the present instance,
the _ku--u--u--de_ was expressive of several miles. As it was near
sunset, I asked where the sun would be when I arrived at my destination.
They told me that if I "_cachema_" (rode fast or ran), the sun would
set before I had gone more than so far, pointing to about half of a
stick he held in his hand; this explanation gave me as good an idea of
the distance, as though he had told it me in miles and furlongs. We
pushed on as fast as we could; but as there was no road, and the sun
occasionally hidden by dark clouds, it was difficult to keep exactly the
course, especially as many deep ravines crossed our intended road. As
the sun was going down, there seemed every sign of a severe storm.
Those only who have seen a tropical thunder-storm can judge what a
pleasant prospect there was before us, for an open plain affords a poor
shelter from its violence. As no sign of a habitation appeared on the
line we were pursuing, I struck off to the right, where a kloof a mile
distant offered a prospect of shelter. On reaching it, some large
trees, with the usual creepers spreading over them, made a fairish
shield against the expected pelting shower. I off-saddled the horses,
making them fast to a tree. I sat upon one of the