I lost no time in advertising our cattle; and, having secured a good auctioneer and made some other arrangements, I again set off to join my party.
Just as I left Cape-Town, my horse, which was excessively shy, took fright, and started off at a rate which would have “taken the shine” out of even John Gilpin’s runaway steed. In the attempt to stop him, the bit (a very substantial one) broke, and in an instant I was at the animal’s mercy. Finding myself in an awkward predicament, and being desirous to shorten the race as much as possible, I unhesitatingly gave him both spur and whip, and, as a consequence, ditches, walls, and fences were leaped and passed at a fearful rate, to the great danger of myself and those I encountered. I do not profess to be skilled in horsemanship, my experience as an equestrian being very small. It was, therefore, as much as I could do to keep my seat. Nevertheless, I had the good fortune to escape unhurt, for after a while my steed became exhausted, and pulled up of his own accord.
I found Hans in good health. The Dutch Boers had once or twice behaved rudely, but the Dane’s herculean appearance and independent manner quickly cooled their ire, and he was allowed to pass unmolested. He told his adventures with graphic effect and racy humor.
Oranges, which are very abundant in these parts, were beginning to ripen. One day some of our Damaras expressed a wish to taste the enticing fruit, and, being supplied with a shilling, they started off. In a short time they brought back no less than two hundred oranges. They had scarcely finished a dozen or two, however, before the effect became irresistible. The acidity of the fruit at this time of the year was so great that it acted with the force of gun-cotton; and, after having a “good blow-out,” they were so disordered as to be unable to taste food for several successive days. Indeed, they were effectually cured of their orange mania.
At the bivouac fire I was often entertained with ghost-stories. John, our wagon-driver, who seemed fully to believe in apparitions, was the chief narrator.
“Ghosts,” said he, “abound in and about the neighborhood of the Cape. At times they appear in the shape of dogs; at others, in that of human beings. Once, late at night, I was coming from Simon’s Bay, when the oxen all of a sudden stopped short, and would have darted right into the bush had I not been quick to turn them. Just then, nothing could be seen; but presently a large white dog, with a chain round the neck, appeared. He passed us slowly without injuring us in any way, and shaped his course over a cross-road, when we continued our journey. At another time I met the “spook” (ghost) in the form of a very tall black man, accompanied by a large dog of the same color.
“Frequently, when returning late at night to my master’s place, while yet at a distance, I have seen the whole yard and dwelling-house splendidly illuminated, but on coming to the spot all was gone.
“As a protection to the garden, my master had erected a hut, where men slept at night. After a while, however, the place became so haunted that the watchmen fled, and slept any where they could in the bush. The ‘spooks’ were seen continually to promenade up and down the walks arm-in-arm, taking an occasional peep into the house.