Residents on the spot, however,
averred that many more fell; but I think the point was not disputed in
view of President Kruger's famous claim for "moral and intellectual
damages," which was then already beginning to be mooted.
The lengthening shadows at last reminded us that we had to return to
town for a dinner-party given in our honour. It usually takes some time
to catch a team of six mules and two horses turned out to graze on the
veldt; it is endless, however, when they are as frightened of their
drivers as ours appeared to be. At length they were collected and we
made a start, and then our adventures began. First the leader, a white
horse, jibbed. Off jumped the Kaffir coachman, and commenced hammering
the poor brute unmercifully over head, ears, and body, with what they
called in Africa the _shambok_.[12] In consequence the team suddenly
started off, but the long whip, left on the carriage roof, slipped down,
and was broken in two by the wheel passing over it. Anyone who has
driven behind mules knows how absolutely powerless the Jehu is without a
long whip; so here we were face to face with a real misfortune:
increasing darkness, jibbing leaders, no whip, and fifteen sandy miles
to traverse before dinner-time. With every sort of ejaculation and yell,
and a perfect rain of blows with the _shambok_ from the Kaffir still on
foot, we lurched forward at a gallop, escaping by a hair's-breadth
another gold-prospector's trench.
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