th of dongas--I reach Swaziland--Baboons
On the trail of the prospectors--The mystery solved--'Ntshindeen's Kraal
Swazi hospitality--How I became celebrated--A popular show--Repairing guns
Character of the Swazis--Contempt for money and love of salt--Prospecting
My welcome outstayed--A dangerous crisis--Return to the Crocodile River
The rhinoceros--Our bearers decamp--We abandon our goods--Attacked by
fever--Terror of partridges--Arrival at Mac Mac.

In the early part of 1875 a large party of Australian prospectors
started from Pilgrim's Rest to seek for gold on the north-eastern
borders of Swaziland. They took with them a light wagon which could
easily be taken to pieces and a span of oxen. They were accompanied by
guides. At that time little was known of the country beyond the
boundaries of the Transvaal on its eastern side. Swaziland was, in
fact, an unknown region. But rumor was rife as to fabulously rich
deposits of gold in the tracts lying to the east and south-east of
Lydenburg. There were, needless to say, no maps of the country in
question. But under such circumstances the less known of any given
region, the greater its fascination.

Some six weeks having passed without news of the party, the camp
seethed with wild report as to its fortune. Some maintained that the
Swazis, who were believed to be averse to the opening up of their
country, had wiped out the intruders. More or less circumstantial
details of the supposed massacre were current, but critical examination
proved such to be quite without foundation. Then came wafts of rumor to
the effect that the prospectors had "struck it rich," but were
determined to keep the strike to themselves. My youthful imagination
inclined to the latter view. I had a friend who knew the Swazis well,
and he held it to be unlikely in the last degree that a party of
peaceful prospectors would be molested. Accordingly, I made up my mind
to get on the trail of the adventurers and stick to it until I found
them.

My "mate" at the time was a man whom I will call MacLean. That was not
his name, but it will do as well as if it were. MacLean belonged to an
old Scottish family, and had brought a suit before the House of Lords
in which he claimed a certain peerage to which great estates and many
titles were attached. He failed through being unable to prove the
marriage of one of his ancestors. We had made a small strike of gold on
one of the terraces of the Blyde River, but this was so