The following morning the lager would start at three o’clock, and, as my horse was in good condition, the owner of the horse that had been left behind asked me to fetch it before the lager left.  He explained to me where I would find it tied to a tree about half an hour’s ride from the lager, so I started with a friend at about two o’clock at night.  On the way we came across a mule that had wandered away while grazing, ignorant of all the danger he was exposing himself to in the uninhabited Boschveld.  The creature gave us much trouble by refusing to be caught and constantly dodging behind a tree, so we lost a great deal of time.  On our way back, close to the lager, we heard the whine of the wild-dog, the well-known feared wolf.  We thought it very interesting to come across a wild animal of which we had no fear just then.  But when we reached the camping-ground of the lager, where only the trolley stood to which the wandering mule belonged, we found to our surprise that both 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 reeds and grass, and the poor man fell down a height of 6 feet, his fall being hastened by the heavy branch he held.  For a moment we stood irresolute.  To jump after him into a crocodile-pool!  But he