Green grinned, and assured me that it was "first-rate water."

He dipped a cup, as he spoke, and drank it. So did his comrades, with

evident satisfaction, though the liquid was so opaque that I could not

see the bottom of a tea-cup when it was full.

There could be no further doubt on the point. These reckless and jovial

South Africans--European by extraction though they were, and without a

drop of black blood in their veins--had actually accommodated themselves

to circumstances so far as to consider liquid mud good water! More than

that, I found that most of the party deemed it a sufficient beverage,

for they were all temperance men, if not total abstainers. Still

further, I followed their example, drank of that yellow pond, and

actually enjoyed it. Subsequently I made the discovery that there were

small animals in it; after that I preferred it in the form of tea, which

was quickly infused by our active Hottentots.

The discovery above referred to was made when Green, (or Brownarms, or

Broadshoulders, I forget which), was quaffing a cup of the cold element.

Having drained it he spat out the last mouthful, and along with it a

lively creature like a small shrimp, with something like a

screw-propeller under its tail!

Enjoying our tea under the shade of the mimosa, we rested for an hour,

and then, saddling our steeds and slinging on rifles and

cartridge-pouches, we mounted, and sallied forth upon the plain.

A glorious sensation of freedom came over me as I felt my horse's

springy step,--a sensation which brought powerfully back the memory of

those days when I first galloped over the American prairies. Surely

there must be a sympathy, a mesmeric influence, between a horse and his

rider which sends a thrill through each. Hobson had lent me his own

favourite horse, Rob Roy. He was a charming creature; well made,

active, willing, and tender in the mouth, but, best of all, he

"trippled" splendidly.

Trippling is a favourite gait in South Africa, especially among the

Dutch farmers. It is something between pacing and ambling, a motion so

easy that one scarce rises at all from the saddle. We trippled off into

the vast plain towards the horizon, each horseman diverging a little

from his comrades, like a fleet of fishing-boats putting out to sea.

Most of the party rode without coats, for the sky was cloudless, and we

looked for a broiling day. Brownarms, I observed, had his sleeves

rolled up, as usual, to the shoulder. Six-foot Johnny rode a

cream-coloured pony, which, like himself, enjoyed itself intensely, and

seemed ready for anything. Each man grasped his rifle by the middle

with the right hand, and rested the stock on his thigh.

Being a stranger to the work, I had been supplied with a Hottentot as

well as a horse,--to guide me and carry my rifle; but I scorned to ride

without my weapon, and did not at first see the necessity of a guide in

the circumstances. Ultimately I was only too glad to avail myself of

his services!

The South Africans call Hottentots "boys," whatever their age or size

may be. My "boy" was named Michael. He was a small wiry man of twenty

or thirty,--more or less,--with a dirty brown face, dirty brown

garments, and a dirty brown horse. Though a bad one to look at, it was

a marvellous horse to go. Michael had a cavernous red mouth, and

magnificent white teeth. Likewise he was gifted with a strong sense of

the ludicrous, as I have reason to know.

We advanced slowly into the plain at first, and gradually scattered

until some of the party began to look like mere specks in the distance.

Presently I saw two or three of them break into a gallop, and observed a

few moving spots of white on the horizon. I looked anxiously at my boy.

He returned the gaze with glittering eyes and said "bok."

"Boks! are they?" said I, applying my spur and making a leap over an

ant-bear hole.

Rob Roy stretched his legs with a will, but a howl from Michael caused

me to look round. He was trending off in another direction, and

pointing violently towards something. He spoke nothing but Dutch. My

acquaintance with that tongue was limited to the single word "Ja."

He was aware of this, and his visage became all eyes and mouth in his

frantic effort to assure me it would be wise were I to follow his lead.

Six Months at the Cape · 第 8 / 31 题