With Mr. Morgan's aid he had secured a small pack of mongrel dogs, deerhounds, greyhounds, pointers, and curs, which was to be brought up with the wagon.
While on the way to Maritzburg Oscar saw something that made him think of his double-barrel, that was stowed away in his trunk under the seat. It was a flock of white-necked ravens. They sat on the trees by the roadside, and showed no signs of alarm as the post-cart dashed by so close to them that the driver could have touched them with his whip if he had made the attempt.
Oscar looked closely at them, noting the attitude of their bodies and the position in which their heads were held, so that he would know how to set up his specimens after he had shot them.
No sooner had Oscar reached his destination than he was surrounded by a new gang of cattle-dealers, who, having learned that he was going up the country, insisted on selling him an outfit.
But the boy dismissed them in the most unceremonious manner, and lost no time in hunting up Judge Donahue and Mr. McElroy.
These gentlemen received him with the greatest courtesy, and were untiring in their efforts to assist him. They superintended the buying of his provisions, hired for him men who they knew could be trusted, and selected a span of oxen which looked very unlike the one Barlow wanted to sell him.
His driver and fore-loper were Hottentots; his "boss"—who was also the interpreter and man-of-all-work—was a Kaffir, who spoke English well enough to make himself understood; and his cook was an Irishman, with a rich brogue and an inexhaustible fund of humor.
The Hottentots and Kaffir were engaged to go with Oscar wherever he went, and to return with him to Maritzburg; while the Irishman was to go no further than Leichtberg, in the Transvaal, where he expected to find relatives.
Paddy O'Brian was a genuine son of the Old Sod. He wore velveteen knee-breeches, long stockings, and hob-nail shoes, and carried all his worldly possessions tied up in a handkerchief, which, when travelling, he slung over his shoulder, on the end of a blackthorn stick that he had used in more than one faction fight.
He had never seen any animal more to be dreaded than a pugnacious billy-goat, and had never handled a gun, but he had for several months officiated as cook in the family of Judge Donahue, who recommended him as an honest, painstaking man, and one who would not let a hungry sportsman starve while waiting for his dinner.