But, as usual, the Kaffirs were wisest.

They have crept up the river banks to a place where it flows between two steep hills of rock, and there is no access but by a narrow footpath.
There they lie with their blankets and bits of things, indifferent to time and space.

Some sort of Zulu missionary is up there, too, and I saw him nobly washing a cooking-pot for his family, dressed in little but his white clerical choker and a sort of undivided skirt.

A few white families have gone to the same place, and I helped some of them to construct their new homes in the rocks amidst great merriment.

The boys were as delighted as children with a spade and bucket by the sea, and many an impregnable redoubt was thrown up with a dozen stones.