white men and Kaffirs had given up the search for the mule for fear of
the wild-dog. They had all congregated round large fires. The wild-dog,
however, is harmless by himself; like the khakies, his strength lies in
numbers. We had to leave the sick horse to join the bucks of the
Boschveld on its recovery, until the horse-sickness came. After a long,
tiring, but very interesting ride we arrived at the Sabie, where the
rest of the lager was already encamped. The Sabie is about the size of
the Krokodil River, and its scenery of woods and valleys formed a sharp
contrast to the deadly monotony of the Boschveld that lay behind us. We
had crossed the bare desert and were now in a part of the country
inhabited by Kaffirs. The following day the lager was removed half an
hour further on, and there we remained a few days.

At night four of us were persuaded to go eel-catching in a
crocodile-pool that we had discovered a little further on. We made a
large fire to entice the eels, and, as we were none of us great lovers
of angling, we made a splendid bonfire, as there was plenty of dry wood
to be had.

There was something particularly attractive in these large fires on
those quiet, dark nights of the wilderness. The glow threw a sombre
light on the water that gave one a creepy feeling, as if a crocodile
were on the watch for us in the water, and lions at our back between
the large trees. What must they have thought of us?

The bank of the river seemed to be about 6 feet high, and not very
steep. We made the fire closer and closer to what seemed the bank. I saw
someone lift up a huge branch, walk to the bank with it, and plant his
left foot firmly on the ground. The reeds gave way beneath him. What
seemed a firm bank, by the glow of the fire, proved to be a mass of