head, as if in deprecation, of my interference
with his judgment. So I found it necessary to
slack out the reins and leave him perfect liberty
to do as it seemed good to him. That day's
experience raised my estimate of the Cape horse.
I was wont to look on him as a rough uncouth
drudge, generally vicious, much given to
buck-jumping and biting, who would take his rider
any distance up to thirty miles at a shuffling
canter without breaking into a walk for a
minute; or pound away for an hour full gallop
after a buck, and when the game had been
brought down either by rifle or dogs, carry his
rider, plus the dead buck, back to the place
from which he started often many hours before.
For such work as this, he is paid with a small
sheaf of oats, roughly cut up by being drawn
across a sickle blade fixed in a tree or wall – ear,
corn, and straw together, and then "knee-
haltered" and turned loose to get his own living
as best he can. I am speaking of the up
country, not of the comparatively delicate town
horse. In spite of this coarse treatment, he
thrives. And here I had the opportunity of
seeing his inborn instinct in the traversing of
such dangerous passes as this one, of which the
very remembrance sends a cold shiver along my
spinal marrow to this day. The careful manner
in which he eyed every obstacle hanging across
the path, appearing to estimate whether it left
room to pass without touching; the dainty way
in which he felt his ground where the path was
in part hidden by grass or shrubs; and above
all the deliberate pains he took to get his fore
legs well planted in a firm place on the other
side of a break in the path before making the
gentle spring which cleared it, was equal in its
way to the best efforts of reason.

In one case, as before said, a torrent had torn
away the track, leaving a break in the ledge
about thirty feet across, and as many deep.
Here we were obliged to dismount, and leading
our horses, managed in some way to scramble
down and up again, clinging on to shrubs and
tufts of grass. How the horses found foothold
I cannot explain. On regaining the ledge we
had to walk some distance before there was a
spot broad enough to let us remount, and not
till then did I fully appreciate the fearful nature
of this pass. I have often walked along a high
wall of an unfinished building only fourteen
inches broad, but that is a safe lounge in
comparison to this terrible track. From the
wall one does not at all events look down on
those huge white-crested waves dashing
themselves into breakers below, and roaring to
devour the traveller if once upon that nine-mile
passage he make a false step, or turn faint or
giddy.

The peculiar barking cry of the Cape baboon
frequently hailed us as we passed along, but
these animals do not care to show themselves if
they can avoid it. They are, if left alone, timid
and harmless creatures, but when wounded and
at bay, know how to use their hands and teeth.
They will even combine on emergencies against
a common enemy, as in the case of the Cape
tiger. This tiger is particularly fond of young
baboon, but it must be very young to suit his
tooth. To get it he will lie in wait for days
together on the mountains, and often succeeds
in snatching a youngster almost out of its
mother's arms. The distracted mother with
piercing shrieks then lays her case before the
council of her people, who, if the tiger has not
made his escape, fall on him in a body and
invariably succeed in killing him. The battle
field is recognised by bones and pieces of skin
of both tiger and baboon; not more, for the
survivors of this forlorn hope make a clean
sweep of everything digestible, devouring not
only their enemy, but also those of their own
kindred whom the tiger has killed in the
conflict. I remember being roused one night
at a place some way inland, by the most
unearthly shrieks, mingled with the roar of a large
animal in rage and pain, the noise coming from
a mountain at the back of the house. It was
explained to me next morning that what I had
heard was the tumult usually produced on
occasions of monkey stealing, and that probably
the tiger had been caught red-handed and
received lynch law.

Half-way in mid air, between us and the sea,
were large flights of sea gulls. There were
specimens of nearly all the varieties I had
hitherto seen, the exceptions being the large
albatross and the Cape pigeon, both of which
I have caught from shipboard, but have never
seen from off land. Where these two birds
build their nests and rear their young is a
mystery; I never heard that the egg of either
could be shown in evidence that a nest had
been discovered. The utter solitude of this
region, which not half-a-dozen persons pass
during the year, as well as the perfect inaccessibility
of all parts of the cliff except this ledge,
seems to recommend it to the sea birds as their
breeding place.

At length, and with a feeling of relief, I
noticed that the ledge was gradually widening,
and suddenly, as we rounded the sharp angle
of the last rock, there was stretched before me
one of those great flats of table-land peculiar to
the Cape. It is a plain of sand, dotted with
granite boulders of great height, and generally
of one unbroken piece of stone throughout.
The vegetation varies. In dry places grows
the sugar bush, with its large handsome flower,
which, when shaken, will deposit in your hand
a table-spoonful of sweet liquid, very grateful
to the parched tongue. Also the wait-a-bit
bush, so called from its bearing barbed thorns,
which, should they catch in dress or flesh, will
detain the traveller a bit before he can get free
from them. Then there is the bitter aloe, never
absent from South African scenery; and, lastly,
the Hottentot fig, a ground creeper, with thick
fleshy leaves, triangular in section. It bears a
pretty yellow flower and fresh acid fruit. This
plant is supposed to possess medicinal virtues,
in which I am a firm believer. Like the aloe
it preserves its life throughout the year, and
thrives on after every other green thing has