I departed from the door of Macleod in a very different state to that in which I left my smoking host, old Hendrick Groning. I was calm, collected, but by no means so extravagantly brave. I was influenced by no unnatural excitement, and feared no succeeding depression and weakness. I had a long tract of country to cross before I could reach a place of shelter; but I looked forward to the twilight, in which I knew I should necessarily be enveloped, without a single emotion of fear or reluctance to proceed. It was reported by the labourers of Macleod's, that the Caffrees had long meditated an incursion,—that they had even committed ravages on the banks of the Great Fish River. Some of their straggling parties might possibly fall in with, and sacrifice me with their assagays for the sake of my pistols and accoutrements. The buffaloes infested that part of the country which I was crossing, and several cattle had recently been missed, which, it was supposed had fallen victims to the lions. I recollected all these circumstances on my solitary journey, but they alarmed me not. I found myself in full possession of my faculties, and went on, until I had well nigh accomplished my day's travel, without waiting to take any part of the bread and fruit which the good Macleod had considerately thrust into my wallet.
I sat down to my frugal repast, just as the sun's disk was drooping beneath the horizon. A light breeze arose from that point, towards which my face was often turned, when the wind blew from thence; for I loved to think that the same breeze
