OVER THE DRACHENBERG MOUNTAINS.
In order to enter the South African Republic the traveler must pass the Drachenberg Mountains. These form the source of the Orange and the Vaal rivers.
The undertaking is far from alluring. Some portions of the mountains have a height of over ten thousand feet.
A wagon road has been made by which the range can be crossed. The summit of this road is about sixty-five hundred feet above the sea.
The toil and the danger in crossing the Drachenberg Mountains with an ox wagon has been admirably described by one writer: "Our wagon is to go up first, being supposed to be the heaviest. Hendrick's and Pater's teams are to be put to it,—thirty-six oxen in all,—and if we get to the summit in ten hours we are to deem ourselves fortunate.
"All is in readiness; the cattle are yoked and the treek-trow is stretched out to its greatest length. The drivers have taken their places,—William in front, Pater in the middle, and Hendrick, as the most skillful, behind; whilst Morris and I are instructed to follow close after with a large stone in our hands, which is to be jammed under the hind wheels whenever the wagon stops or we hear the word klip shouted. The sun had long gone down, but we had a grand moon, one that seemed much overgrown, still had lost none of its brilliancy by the process.
"Hendrick passes the signal to the other drivers to know if they are ready; having received a favorable reply, with good bass voice he shouts, 'Amba treek!' the words being echoed by each of the others, and off moves the wagon in gallant style.
"For about a hundred yards our course is over the sward; after that comes an abrupt turn entering a steep incline, and the ascent has begun. For a hundred yards or more it was a tremendous pull; but as it was the start, the oxen were comparatively fresh, and no stones were required; but in fifty yards more 'Klip!' was called out, and my friend and I did the klipping, Hendrick at the same time rushing behind to the rear of the wagon to put on the brake.
"Now, this klipping may be a very playful amusement for some people, but Morris and myself very soon came to the conclusion that it bore a very strong resemblance to hard work, with every probability of getting your fingers crushed or yourself run over. Neither was it a joke to carry a rock, about twenty-five pounds in weight, up a hill—mountain, I should say—far more favorable for the progression of goats or Shetland ponies than human beings.
"Though seeing the matter in this light, yet we dare not remonstrate, for if we did not klip, the wagons, as likely as not, would go over the ledge, and halt—in fragments.
"Grade after grade the hill increased in steepness, and often the oxen were compelled to stop every twenty or thirty yards. The drivers certainly did their work, and did not spare themselves; and the heavy breathing of the cattle showed that their task was no easy one. Although our stoppages were most numerous, still we crawled on,—truly, step by step,—still forward; so if we met nothing more formidable, in time we should reach the top. We were in luck, too, as far as the weather was concerned, for a more lovely night could not have been made to order....
"We have come to a terrible grip; the gun-like reports of the whips, crack! crack! crack! incessantly, like the irregular fire of a company skirmishing; and I had just remarked, 'That's hot, Morris!' when that most objectionable—nay, abominated—shout of 'Klip!' struck on our ears. I did my best to be quick, and in consequence got a finger pinched.
"That last pull was a near thing, but the driving and the energy of Hendrick saved us, or at least the wagon, from trying to discover the sea level.
"That, doubtless, was the worst trial we had; for, although it was only in the middle of the incline, halts afterwards became less frequent and less prolonged. At this time it was fearfully cold, and there was no wind; still our progress was so slow that the blood chilled in our veins....
"Again we are off; the whips crack, the drivers scold and shout the names of lagging oxen, while the poor beasts groan and wheeze with their exertions and the effects of the rarefied atmosphere. From the abyss on our left rises an immense riven rock. Here we are informed that a wagon, at no long distant time back, had gone over, but we pass the dangerous place in safety, and—hurrah! hurrah! we are descending, having passed the summit."
The Drachenberg Mountains were the scene of fierce encounters between the English and the Boers, or settlers, during the late Transvaal war. Two most disastrous battles were fought, in which the English were overpowered and defeated by the Boers, who, though valiant and brave in many respects, did not hesitate to resort to treachery and deceit in their dealings with the English, while they displayed not only cruelty but heartlessness and greed in the victories which they won. They spared neither women nor children in their blind fury and ruthless slaughter, and were indifferent to the cries of the wounded as they searched them for plunder.