The Gold Kloof. H. A. Bryden

sadly to urban life again, vowing that no one can make money by stock-farming in South Africa.

      But there are plenty of hard-working and successful pastoral farmers in many parts of South Africa who can testify to the excellent result of application and attention to details, united with care, foresight, energy, and experience.

      For a long month Mr. Blakeney or his son Tom, sometimes both of them, rode far and wide with Guy Hardcastle over the twenty-four thousand odd acres comprised in Bamborough Farm. They explored boundaries, pointed out to Guy the various beacons marking off their limits, inspected cattle, and assisted at the sinking of a well in a distant part of the estate. This well, and the erection of a windmill pump, were needed for the supply of water to the cattle in what had been so waterless a portion of the ranch that it had been hitherto practically unavailable, excellent as was the grass veldt. A good-sized basin was formed in a piece of limestone formation, where once had existed an ancient native well, now long since dry; and here, when the operations were completed, the cattle were able to slake their thirst in a cool, crystal-clear pool, which at once sent up the value of the six thousand acres on this part of the run by two hundred per cent.

      They had various bird-shooting excursions, riding out with a couple of pointers, and, so soon as the dogs stood to game, dismounting from their ponies and walking into their shots. In this way they made some pretty bags of Coqui and red-wing francolin, koorhaan, and guinea-fowl. One or two adventures befell Guy at this period. One day they had sallied out to hunt a troop of hartebeest, which ran on a distant part of the farm. After finding the troop in some prettily-timbered country, well covered with giraffe-acacia, the three had become separated, Guy galloping mile after mile in pursuit of a good bull which he had wounded. The hartebeest, turning out of the troop and quitting the wooded glades in which the herd had been discovered, took away over the open plains. Guy was well mounted, and for a long seven miles pushed after the big red-brown antelope, which swept away in front of him with a free, machine-like action that, despite its wound-a bullet through the middle of the body-showed no symptom of tiring. At length the hartebeest climbed the ridge of a wave in the grass plain, and disappeared. Guy's pony, good and willing as he was, was now tiring visibly. The lad doubted whether he could gallop much farther-the pace had been too great-and the game looked like getting clean away. It was too annoying. They reached the top of the ridge, and looked over. Nothing living was to be seen; the plain was untenanted. Apparently the antelope had vanished into thin air. But Guy's keen eye noted, half a mile or so to the right, a widish patch of vaal bush. Towards this he now rode. He approached within thirty yards, and dismounted. Just as he did so, the wounded antelope rose slowly to its feet from within the shelter of the bush, and essayed to canter off. Too late! The gallant beast had made its last effort and taken its final gallop. Guy's rifle went up, and as the antelope slowly moved away, another bullet from the Mannlicher pierced its heart. It tumbled suddenly to the veldt, and after a brief kick or two lay dead.

      Guy now set to work to skin his prize and take off the head. It was a fine bull, carrying excellent horns, and his pride and satisfaction at having thus secured his first big game trophy were very great. By the time he had completed his operations, and slung the skin and a quantity of venison behind the saddle, the hot afternoon was wearing away. Carrying the hartebeest's head in front of him, resting on the pommel of the saddle, Guy now rode back for the woodland. It was a long eight miles, and his nag was by no means fresh after his tremendous exertions. They reached the acacia groves at last. By this time there remained an hour to sunset. Through these endless groves and glades, all much resembling one another, the young Englishman now attempted to thread his way, with the result that, by the time the sun sank, he found himself completely lost. Just at this moment there came from far to the eastward the faint report of a gun, then another. Guy rode that way, but in half an hour the light had clean vanished, and it became a matter of difficulty to manoeuvre a path through the gloom of evening amid this trackless forest. Night fell; there was no moon; and although the stars glittered brilliantly above, it became apparent to Guy that he was benighted. He heard no more shots.

      After wandering on, leading his now dog-tired pony, the lad came to the conclusion that he had better camp for the night. He had, luckily, in the hunting pouch at his belt, a box of matches and a compass, two things which his uncle had warned him always to carry on expeditions of this sort. He knew that there was no water within many miles of where he stood, and that it was useless to think of attempting to find any. He had, unluckily, finished the last remnant of lime juice and water that remained in his water-bottle; bitterly did he now regret the fact. He was terribly thirsty after hunting all day under a burning sun. He felt that at this moment he would gladly have given half a crown, nay, half a sovereign, for a quart of clear water. It was useless to think about it, however, and, philosophically enough, Guy set to work to prepare for the night. First he cut a quantity of grass and placed it before his pony, which by this time he had off-saddled and tied to a bush. On the lee side of this bush he himself meant to sleep, and for this purpose cut more grass and made a rough bed. Then clearing a space-for he had no wish to start a veldt fire-he cut and gathered sticks and odd timber. He had camped by a dead acacia tree, destroyed by white ants, and soon had before him a cheerful blaze. Now cutting some collops of venison, he cooked them in the hot embers, and, with a biscuit that remained over from his lunch, made out a respectable meal. It was hard work eating without water, and with a thirst such as he now possessed; but he managed to swallow some food, and felt a trifle better. The air grew chill, and he now unfastened his coat from his saddle and put it on; then, piling up more wood on the fire, and making a pillow of the inner part of his saddle, he fell asleep. He knew that here, in this waterless and semi-desert part of the veldt, few wild beasts-leopards, cheetahs, or hyænas-would be wandering about; and besides, he was too tired to trouble much if any there were.

      At dawn he awoke, cold and stiff; the fire was out; his pony was munching the remains of the grass that lay near him. Guy rose, somewhat refreshed, but with a terribly dry mouth and tongue. Saddling up, he now prepared to seek his way home. By the position of the sun and the aid of his compass, he could now steer some sort of way through this perplexing forest, and he steadily pushed on. Two hours later, having cleared the timber country and emerged once more upon the open plains, he came upon the spoor of horses, which convinced him that he was going in the right direction. After another hour of cantering and walking, he struck a wagon track, and knew that he could now find his way to the homestead. Very shortly he heard the reports of two guns, then a third. He guessed that these were fired by his uncle or cousin, now no doubt in search of him. Cantering that way, he soon caught sight of three mounted men, and in five minutes was shaking hands with his relatives. They had with them a native servant, and were riding out to look for him.

      "My word, Guy," said his uncle heartily, "I am glad to have come across you so soon. This is a dickens of a country to get lost in-the veldt is so waterless, except during the rains; and I was getting seriously anxious about you. We wandered about firing shots yesterday afternoon, and then made for home to bring out more water, and hunt you up to-day, in case you had completely lost yourself. Didn't you hear our shots yesterday?"

      "Yes," answered Guy, "I heard two just before sundown last evening; but they were far away to the east, and I couldn't make anything of them, though I wandered that way after dark. Then I camped, made a fire, and slept, and here I am."

      "Excellent, my boy," said his uncle; "but you must be terribly dry. Here, April," turning to the native; "unfasten that water-bottle and give Baas Guy a drink. Drink up, lad; it's cold tea, and will do you good."

      Guy drank and drank, and presently returned the bottle.

      "Never tasted anything so good in my life," he said, wiping his lips. "It's nectar. I begin to understand what thirst really is. In England we can have no idea of it, in a country where you can't go a mile without coming on water of some kind or other."

      "You're quite right," added Mr. Blakeney. "They don't half appreciate the blessings of life at home. You want to rough it out here a bit to understand what English comfort and English luxury really mean. Why, we had a man staying with us a year back, looking at stock, who got lost in the veldt out here for three days, two of which he passed without a drop of water. Ultimately we tracked him to a native kraal on the Molopo, thirty miles away. In this kind of country-in fact all through Bechuanaland, on the Kalahari side-you've got to watch it, or you may easily get lost, and perhaps die of thirst