December, and not a drop of rain had fallen. When I look back at
myself then, from where I now am, I seem a very pathetic figure.

On Christmas Eve I struck my tent, packed my swag, and descended the
mountain. The spot at which I expended so much useless labor has since
become well-known as the Theta Mine, one of the best gold producers
belonging to the Transvaal Gold Mining Estates Company.

Within a few days I unexpectedly became possessed of about 10. But I
was at the end of my tether in the matter of mining. I made up my mind
to leave the goldfields; to return to the old Cape Colony, via Natal,
as a tramp.

So in the afternoon of the 3rd of January, 1876, I climbed up the long
and steep mountain out of the valley of the Blyde River, along the very
pathway by which "Artful Joe" and I had descended with our hearts full
of hope. My dreams of affluence had eventuated in nothing; my hard work
had been thrown away. Three times had fortune tantalized me by placing
rich gifts almost within my reach and then snatching them from my
outstretched hand.

When I reached the rocky summit I threw my heavy swag to the ground and
gazed back with dimming eyes. A lump rose in my throat. It had, after
all, been a man's life that I had led. I had made many friends and but
few enemies.

As I gazed, the sun was low behind me, and the immense valley at my
feet was filled with gloom. Deepening purple shadows were stealing up
Pilgrim's Creek in a slow brimming flood. Through this the scattered
tents gleamed white, here and there a tiny sparklet showed where some
digger was preparing his evening meal. . . . I knew the occupants of
these tents; with some I had shared danger, with others toil.

I was loath to leave them all. One last look and the scene was
obliterated by a sudden gush of tears.

Then I once more humped my swag and started on my long journey through
the cool night, under the inscrutable stars.

CHAPTER XII

On the road--Heavy rain--Mosquitoes--Natal--Thunderstorms--A terrible night
Maritzburg--My cash runs out--A halcyon day--Hospitality--D'Urban--Failure
to get work--The Fighting Blacksmith and the eccentric old gentleman
Narrow escape of the latter--East London--Experiences in a surfboat--A
Perilous venture--I enter the Civil Service--Further reminiscences
deferred--Au revoir.

My swag was heavy, but my frame was tough. It was early in the forenoon
of the following day when I reached Lydenburg. Having had to pur