The following day, Steve and his three companions had good sport amongst the guinea-fowl and other birds.
The transport riders had left early in the morning, each with a good load of firewood for the Pretoria market, as their month of inactivity was at an end, and they had once more to begin work. It had been agreed that the party with the cart should start about ten o’clock from the night’s camping place, after having had a turn at the guinea-fowl, etc., and as the waggons started at seven, the cart would catch up with them somewhere about noon, when they could once more have dinner together.
As agreed so done. Steve and his companions came speeding towards the drift, beyond which, it had been agreed, the waggons would outspan, and get dinner ready. As they came nearer, they heard an uproar of oxwhips clapping, and men shouting. When they arrived on the scene they saw that one of the waggons was stuck in the drift.
All the other waggons had crossed safely, but the last one, the most heavily laden, and having the weakest span of oxen, had sunk deep in the mud of the drift. The water was no more than two feet deep, but the mud was nearly as deep in itself.
The occupants of the cart saw at a glance that there was no chance for them to pass while the waggon occupied the narrow drift. They, therefore, left Harrison in charge of the cart, and went forward to see how matters proceeded. They found the waggon sunk to the nave in the mud. The oxen were panting and struggling to pull through the mud. Their leader was pulled hither and thither as they swayed to and fro in their efforts to pull out. The men, half naked, were struggling about in the water, talking to the oxen, and clapping their whips. But in vain, the waggon would not budge an inch.
The youngsters from town thought this struggling about in the water trying to extricate a waggon stuck in the mud fine fun, so they took off their clothes, and joined the party of transport riders in the water.
Steve and his friends soon discovered that the pleasantest part of the fun was to sit, perched on top of the waggon, and watch the efforts of the others to urge the oxen forward.
There was a lull. Another span of oxen had been sent for to hook on in front. Speelman, who had been the liveliest in his efforts to get forward, was standing alongside of the hind oxen. He was almost naked, having just a remnant of a shirt on. He looked like a dusky mermaid of the waters, he moved so rapidly about; he was now under the oxen, now right under the trek chain; he seemed to be everywhere.
‘I say, Speelman, did you see any snakes this morning?’ asked Steve.
‘No, baas, don’t want to see ’em,’ said Speelman, suspiciously looking about him, as if he expected to see snakes in the water.