By Veldt and Kopje

by W. C. Scully

“I went to sea as a boy and, in the late forties, was mate of a ship which ran ashore on the coast of the Cape Colony, somewhere to the eastward of Cape l’Agulhas. I disliked the sea; and when I managed to obtain a clerkship in a store in Cape Town, determined to spend the rest of my life ashore. But I soon sickened of town life. I had always longed to visit the great unknown interior and to shoot big game, but without means this was, of course, impossible.

“At length, I found myself with a few pounds in my pocket, so I bought a small wagon and a team of oxen, and commenced business on my own account as a travelling trader. I used to obtain goods in Cape Town on credit, take them up-country to barter with, and afterwards return with cattle and sheep, which I sold to the butchers at a good profit.

“My business prospered, so that within a few years I found myself in a position to realise my dream of taking a trip up-country. I possessed a strong, comfortable wagon, sixteen good oxen, and three smart ponies—all of which I had obtained by trading. I bought several good guns, a lot of gunpowder and lead, and, in fact, a complete hunting and trading outfit.

“I had no fixed plan. Time was no object, so I meant to travel northward in a leisurely manner, resting whenever I felt inclined to, or when my cattle required to pick up in point of condition. Being a handy man with tools I knew I could repair my wagon or guns should they require it. I spoke Dutch well, and I took a lot of stuff for the purpose of trading with the Boers for food.

“Always a solitary man, I did not feel the need of a companion, but I took two servants with me—an old Hottentot named Danster and his grandson, a lad of sixteen. These had been in my service for several years, and were willing to follow me anywhere.

“It was October when I started, and it was well on in September of the following year before I reached the Orange River. The course I had taken was somewhere to the westward of the usual trade route. I wanted to see as much unknown country as possible, and I had an idea that gold might be found in the great, high, central plain. The rains had fallen more plentifully than for years previously—almost as heavily as they have fallen here this season—so I had an easy time of it. I just went slowly along, shooting game when I wanted meat and pausing when the desire to rest came over me. The farther northward I went, the scarcer became the farms, until at length the only people I met were the few wandering Boers who lived in wagons and mat-houses and moved about on the track of the rains.

“Fate or chance led me to a bend in the Orange River where a certain Boer and his family dwelt. Although the family spoke nothing but Dutch, this Boer was a Scotsman by birth. He had come to Africa when a child, and had spent his life on the fringe of the desert. He was now old, blind, and feeble, and had evidently not long to live. The family consisted of three sons—the eldest being twenty-five and the youngest nineteen years of age—and a niece, a girl of eighteen. These young men were the three greatest scoundrels it has ever been my lot to meet, but the girl was beautiful and good, and I loved her from the first moment my eyes rested on her face.

“I will try and describe the homestead and its dwellers. The house was small and low, built of round stones with mud plaster and thatched with reeds. The furniture was rough-hewn from logs carried down by the great river when in flood. The old Boer was rich in cattle, sheep and horses. Grain was grown on a patch of sandy ground which was sometimes fertilised by the river when at its highest flood. Brayed skins served principally for clothing and wholly for bedding.

“Piet, the eldest of the brothers, was a tall, melancholy man with a narrow face, thick lips, and hair the colour of a fox. Gerrit, the second, was short and powerfully built. He had black eyes, beard and hair, and his complexion was swarthy. He was passionate and cruel, and the poor old man used to shake at the sound of his voice. Sandy, the youngest, was a powerfully built fellow, and also had red hair. His face was like that of a weasel. He was lame from an injury received in childhood, but so strong that he could hold fast the leg of an ox no matter how hard the animal kicked. He seldom spoke, and he had the strongest aversion to meeting with his pale eyes even the glance of anyone else.

“And the girl—how shall a man describe the first and only woman he has loved—and that after she has been dead for twenty years? Alida was dark, dark as a gipsy, and of middle height. I had not seen much of women—I had never pleased them, nor had they been attracted by me—so, although thirty-five years of age, I had not thought of marrying. But here, in this God-forgotten corner of the wilderness, I suddenly came face to face with my mate, clad in rough skins that could not hide her beauty, and as ready to go with me to the end of the world as I was to take her.