It was fairly late in the afternoon when we reached our destination. The guide pointed out to me the exact spot where the nugget was alleged to have been picked up. It was on the side of a little gully which scarred the terraced bank of the dry T'Cuidabees River. The bedrock was of soft shale; it almost protruded from the surface, so sparse was the covering soil. There was no such thing as "wash" in the ordinary sense, but merely earth to the depth of a few inches, with which a good many angular quartz pebbles were mixed. I had once found gold, in an almost exactly similar formation, at a spot in the north-eastern Transvaal. But how to test the ground; that was the question. My principal object in sending for the wagon was the conveyance of a few loads of gravel to the nearest water,--wherever that might be. In the meantime I set a party of my followers to work loosening the soil and picking out the stones. By the time darkness set in we had as much "wash" ready as we would be able to deal with. The Trek-Boers used to say that rain always followed me to Bushmanland. It had apparently followed me to the Richtersveld, for as we sat at the camp fire a menacing black cloud climbed into and filled the northern sky over the mountains of Great Namaqualand; every few seconds it was illuminated by fantastic lightning explosions. As the cloud drew nearer the thunder began to speak. Soon a black fog rolled down on us and a veritable thunderstorm set in. For upwards of an hour the rain fell heavily. We got wet through, but I was much consoled in the discomfort by information from the Hottentots to the effect that there was a deep hole some few hundred yards down the river-course, which held water for several days after the rare occasions upon which rain fell. Soon the storm had passed away, so we built up a huge fire and got our clothes more or less dried. Then to sleep. In the morning the cradle was conveyed down the valley to where the water was supposed to be. Sure enough, the hole was as described; we found it full to the brim of muddy water. Although only a few feet in width it was deep. Probably it held four hundred gallons. Work was started at once,--all my followers, male as well as female, carrying down the loosened gravel in their skin garments which, to my embarrassment, they discarded (as clothing) for the occasion. The cradle stood at the side of the pool, so that the water, after it had passed through the sieve and over the trays, could run back. One of the men lifted the water in a bucket and poured it slowly into the top of the cradle, while I rocked. After running through the equivalent of a few barrow-loads I removed the top tray and examined what lay behind the lip. Yes, veritably--there were a few tiny specks of gold.