cing, the cricket and
beetles making the air vibrate with the sharp note they utter; while on
the plains in front of me, a couple of antelopes walked out to graze,
conscious already that the danger was over. After a severe storm all
the animal creation seem on the move, and, although it was long past the
bed-time of the feathered inhabitants of the ravine, they began hitting
about from tree to tree; while some green parrots that seemed to reside
here, and had been caught in the storm, and therefore obliged to seek
shelter elsewhere, returned in parties of twos and threes, and were then
noisily welcomed by their more fortunate fellows. My Kaffir seemed awed
by the lightning and thunder; he ate a little of his "_muti_" (charmed
medicine) that was round his neck, and sat immovable. When the storm
had passed he looked steadily at me for a few seconds, covering his
mouth with his hand in his usual way, shook his head two or three times,
and shut his eyes. One must have seen his performance to have judged of
his eloquence.

As the night was so brilliant, I determined to push on and try to find
my friend's location, for I was unpleasantly moist, and everything was
so wet that fighting a fire would have been no easy matter. In Africa
we travel by "direction:" "Go out in that direction for two days, and
you will come to my house," is about the amount of information you
frequently get. I knew which way to steer, so pushed straight on in the
hope of seeing some sign of a house. After riding about an hour, I saw
two horsemen going up a hill opposite to me, about half a mile distant;
they were going on slowly, but I could not make them out well, as they
were over the ridge so soon. I galloped on after them, thinking that
they must be some one from my friends, sent out in search of me, but
upon getting on the hill, the horsemen had passed over. I saw them a
few hundred yards in advance, they were looking away from me, and one
was pointing out something to the other. Before I could see well who
they were, my Kaffir came to my side, and exclaimed, _Ma me, ma me!--
bululu bulala!--chingana Bushman_. ("Ma me," is a term of surprise,
"shoot, shoot, rascally Bushman!"). To explain this apparently cruel
proposition, I must state that the Bushmen about here were looked upon
with the most deadly hatred, "every man's hand was against them, and
theirs against every man." They were the farmer's greatest enemies--
wandering from plac