The Hickman courier., 1873-07-12
A south.African Adrenture.

A South-African Adventure.
It was on the afternoon of one of the
4 fSag aaz3 ssS's7sssas-
burg mountains, for the purpose OF find
ing, If possible, an Gland, a species of
antelope, to replenish my larder for the
coming christmas. I was at the time
living alone in a glen formed by two
spurs OF the mountain, with bat few
neighbors, and no town within fifty
miles but, as my Kaffres had become
sufficiently civilized TO understand that
christmas-time meant unlimited eating,
/ wished, by providing game, to save
an OK. I had only five or six miles to
20, and was well mounted so / did not
hurry, but, leading my horse up the
steep pass, reached the place where 1
intended to sleep just as the sun was
setting.
The scene around, though quite diff
ferent from our ideas of what 1t should
be in December, was very beautiful.
There was no snow, no leafess trees
with their delicate tracery set off by the
glistening hoar-frost, nor dark-green
frs bending under their white load ;
bat still there was enough to keep me
standing, forgetful of fre-wood and all
l had to do for my comfort during the
night.
Twas on a narrow ledge Of rock, Sc
parated from the network OF hills be
yond by a deep, perpendicular gorge,
at the bottom of which, so far down
that I could hardly distinguish it, ran
a little burn. The setting sun gave
the peaks that rich purple hpe seldom
seen away from heather; and on the
other side, as far as the eye could reach
Law the thorn-covered flats and hills OF
Natal.
Under the rock was a large cave
where l had determined to sleep. 1t
had in olden times been regular re-
sort of the bushmen, but few came near
II now. indeed, had not known they
came at all, but, on going in, found
some calabashes, and the ashes Of a
pewlv-made FIRE, which could have only
been left by them. There were other
r-sr-sss- 4he wells, though evidently
of 9feat antiquity rude sketches and
drawings of horses, cattle, bows and ar
rows. and even of a bushman riding.
1t is most curious that a race so low
down in the scale of humanity that
their language only contains few
words made up of unpsonounceable
clicks. and who, with the exception Of
the use of fre, in their mode of life
1 differ but little from the ape, should
have learned to do this. 1t may be that
it is a remnant of an old sign-language,
or the last relic of some former civiliza-
ton. 1t was a full moon, and, after
admiring the wonderful lights and
shadows thrown by it on the broken
ground. turned in and slept till near
daylight.
As soon as 1 could see, 1 started to
hunt. Much to my annoyance at the
time. though 1 had afterward cause to
be thankful that my horse was spared
such a gallop as riding down an Gland
entails. 1 could find nothing, and could
tell by the spoors that no herd had
been about for some days. It was near
" noon before 1 became convinced OF
this; and, tempted by the shade of q
line of tree-ferns edging little brook
whose bubbles sounded refreshingly
amid the great heat, took my saddle
off knee-haltered Prince, and lay
down. OF course, soon dozed off,
but became awake again in about q
couple of hours, 1 say became awake,
because it is not the natural rousing uE
of a person who has been asleep, but &
sudden return to consciousness, with
ont any movement, and with all my
wits about me, and that inward feeling
which perhaps some of my readers may
have experienced, of something being
wrong. and tension of all the power'
of hearing to discover what it Is. l haC
not long to wait whiz came a tiny ar
row. striking the stone on which m.
head had been resting, and where IA.
cap still was. 1t did not require mucl
thinking to know that a Busman's han'
held the bow it had come from, nor t.
determine that the safest thing to d.
was to roll quietly into the bed OF tn
little brook below me- Luckily, thi
would afford good shelter, and l coul'
almost reach the edge with my hand.
The tremendous violence with whic
these streams come down from the hill
during the heavy thunder-storms wear
a deep passage even in the hardes
|, ground and, though there was onl
about an inch of water, and not var
broad. the banks were to the full fou
feet high. Leaving my cap where
, was, 1 rolled over as quietly as / could
:, but, just as I was disappearing, anothe
: arrow came and struck me in the thigi
the only part not yet in safety. Ittoo
all nv self-control to continue IN
movements as before until / stoo
, crouching az the bottom. Why, th
4 reader may exclaim, the pain of sue
tiny arrow could not be very great
/ No neither is the bite of a snake IN /
: self; yet of the two the latter is IL
!, least to be dreaded. 1t was, of eours
s poisoned with that deadly skill f'
IS which the whole tribe is famous {; AM
e as I stood below, knew I had lit
/ chance of seeing another sunrise.
S However, with that self-help tn
g men who lead a solitary life acquire,
y instantly drew my hunting knife, rippe
y ND the trousers. and with stead
ie hand cut the arrowhead, not sparil
81 myself. / then took my flask al
e poured powder into the wound, an
$ gently striking a match, set fire to
. That done, / took off my belt, a.
using my full force, strapped it lItt
re above, as tight as it would go.
LIDO not think that in doing all l b