Led by this same driver I walked to the edge of the cliff--for I had never visited the place before--and looked at the deep sea-pool, forty feet below me, into which Swart Piet had thrown Ralph after he had shot him.

Also I went down to the edge of the pool and climbed up again by the path along which Zinti and Sihamba had staggered with his senseless body.

Afterwards I returned to the waggons with a heart full of thankfulness and wonder that he should still be alive among us to-day, although alas, there was much for which I could not feel thankful, at least not then.
Now it is of little use that I should set down the history of this trek of ours day by day, for if I did my story would have no end.

It is enough to tell that in company with other emigrants we crossed the Orange River, heading for Thaba Nchu, which had been the chief town of Maroko before Moselikatse drove him out of the Marico country.

Here several bands of emigrants were to meet, and here they did meet, but not until a year or more had passed since we left the colony and wandered out into the veldt.
Ah! I tell you, my child, the veldt in those days was different indeed from what it is now.