The wagon and the oxen we left in the immediate charge of Goza and
Tom, our driver and leader, both trustworthy boys, requesting a worthy
Scotch missionary who lived in this distant place to keep an eye on
them. Then, accompanied by Umbopa, Khiva, Ventvoegel, and half a dozen
bearers whom we hired on the spot, we started off on foot upon our
wild quest. I remember we were all a little silent on the occasion of
this departure, and I think that each of us was wondering if we should
ever see our wagon again; for my part I never expected to do so. For a
while we tramped on in silence, till Umbopa, who was marching in
front, broke into a Zulu chant about how some brave men, tired of life
and the tameness of things, started off into a vast wilderness to find
new things or die, and how, lo and behold! when they had travelled far
into the wilderness they found that it was not a wilderness at all,
but a beautiful place full of young wives and fat cattle, of game to
hunt and enemies to kill.

Then we all laughed and took it for a good omen. Umbopa was a cheerful
savage, in a dignified sort of way, when he was not suffering from one
of his fits of brooding, and he had a wonderful knack of keeping up
our spirits. We all grew very fond of him.

And now for the one adventure to which I am going to treat myself, for
I do dearly love a hunting yarn.

About a fortnight's march from Inyati we came across a peculiarly
beautiful bit of well-watered woodland country. The kloofs in the
hills were covered with dense bush, "idoro" bush as the natives call
it, and in some places, with the "wacht-een-beche," or "wait-a-little
thorn," and there were great quantities of the lovely "machabell"
tree, laden with refreshing yellow fruit having enormous stones. This