the best of our way back to the camp, not in the sweetest of tempers,
carrying the tusks of the elephant I had shot.

"It was on the afternoon of the fifth day of our tramp that we reached
the little koppie overlooking the spot where the waggon stood, and I
confess that I climbed it with a pleasurable sense of home-coming, for
his waggon is the hunter's home, as much as his house is that of the
civilized person. I reached the top of the koppie, and looked in the
direction where the friendly white tent of the waggon should be, but
there was no waggon, only a black burnt plain stretching away as far as
the eye could reach. I rubbed my eyes, looked again, and made out on the
spot of the camp, not my waggon, but some charred beams of wood. Half
wild with grief and anxiety, followed by Hans and Mashune, I ran at full
speed down the slope of the koppie, and across the space of plain below
to the spring of water, where my camp had been. I was soon there, only
to find that my worst suspicions were confirmed.

"The waggon and all its contents, including my spare guns and
ammunition, had been destroyed by a grass fire.

"Now before I started, I had left orders with the driver to burn off
the grass round the camp, in order to guard against accidents of this
nature, and here was the reward of my folly: a very proper illustration
of the necessity, especially where natives are concerned, of doing a
thing one's self if one wants it done at all. Evidently the lazy
rascals had not burnt round the waggon; most probably, indeed, they had
themselves carelessly fired the tall and resinous tambouki grass near
by; the wind had driven the flames on to the waggon tent, and there was
quickly an end of the matter. As for the driver and leader, I know not
what became of them: probably fearing my anger, they bolted, taking the