Chapter Twenty Five.
Three miles from Smithfield we came to the banks of the Caledon River, which we found greatly swollen by the rains, and did not consider prudent to cross until two of the boys had waded through. The water came up above their waists, and we climbed into our places, and descended the steep bank leading to the drift (or ford). It requires management and considerable shouting and activity on the part of the wagon drivers to cross a river. The bank is always precipitous, and the break has to be screwed up hard to make the descent, and released immediately the water is reached. At times the oxen stick in the middle of the drift, which is often rocky and full of great boulders, and it is difficult to get them on.
When we reached the bottom of the slope, the leading oxen were already in the middle of the stream, with the water nearly over their backs. With a plunge the wagon took the water, and we were glad to find that the drift had a tolerably firm, sandy foundation, so that we were not tumbled about much. The leaders were now half-way up the opposite bank, and the driver, mounting the footboard in front of the wagon, gave one of his banshee howls and a simultaneous crack of his whip over the heads of the team. This started them into a trot, and the impetus was not lost until we were all high and dry on the farther bank.
The water had come up to the floor of the wagon, but for only a moment, so that nothing was injured. The only casualty sustained was the loss of a bright tin pail which had been floated off its hook, and went sailing down with a jaunty air to the tune, “Won’t have to work any more.”
After crossing the river we branched off considerably to the right. Our way lay for some distance along the banks of the river, and the country was thickly studded with stunted thorn and furze bushes. Some doves, which always abound in these thorn bushes, were shot, and they formed a most welcome addition to our dinner that day. Outspanning nearly all the hot afternoon, we made a long trek in the lovely moonlight until nearly twelve o’clock before “tying up.” This is a plan always adopted by transport riders, the wagon drivers who make it their business to carry goods from town to town. They lie to nearly all day, and travel late in the afternoon and night, finding, by following this plan, that their oxen can get through more work and keep in better condition.
The Hottentot and Kafir boys who lead them seem to be able to see in the dark. They will lead the oxen, without stopping, over dangerous roads where it is pitch dark. The wagon was often in motion before we awoke, but so accustomed had we become to the jolting of our bed that it did not wake us from our deep sleep. When we awoke we would find breakfast prepared in a pleasant, grassy country, and the fire blazing merrily.
It is not to be wondered at that the Kafirs are such happy, contented mortals, for the sun, of which they get so much, gives more life and vitality than any medicine. One afternoon the boys sighted a herd of spring-bok some distance away in the veldt. They were feeding in a depression in the plain about seven hundred yards away, and our hunter, sighting his rifle, carefully rested it on an ant-hill. At the sound of the rifle the whole troop started away with a bound, breaking into a gallop and disappearing in a cloud of dust far off in the veldt, leaving one of them lying on the ground with his feet in the air. But he was only wounded, and before the boys reached him he struggled to his feet and tried to limp off. Down went the rifleman on his knee, there was a moment of suspense and another report, and the buck was bowled over with a bullet in his neck. He was brought to the wagon in triumph, and slung by his feet underneath, we girls being as much excited as if a tiger had been slain.
Moving on one morning before daylight, and crossing a fine bridge over the Orange River, our oxen were unyoked hard by a number of transport wagons. When we arrived the transport riders and their boys were all asleep, but as day wore on they began to get about, and came over to our wagon, mightily curious to know who we were, where we were going, where we lived, and highly amused at the idea of any one travelling in an ox-wagon for pleasure.
