There was not a sound, for the soft sand deadened the footfalls of the horses as with drooping ears they trudged dejectedly along, hour after hour, winding and turning through narrow _poorts_ where two could not pass abreast, flanking mountains only to find others barring our path, always descending and always getting hotter and hotter. In places, scrambling over huge masses of iron ore fallen from the black zigzags above, or tempted to clamber up to some bright deceiving outcrop of adamantine iron-glance, or to where the numerous green stains on the red rock showed the existence of copper; walking as much as possible to save the poor nags’ unshod hoofs, and only climbing to the saddle when our own feet became unbearable, we plodded and shuffled for five solid hours down that infernal ravine. I asked Klaas if it had a name. He said, “No,” that it was not a regular “path,” and that he had only been through it once--many years ago, when he was a boy. Time went on, and the course became so tortuous that at times we appeared to be doubling on our tracks; each of the peaks we passed looked exactly like the others we had already passed, and I began to think that Klaas was leading us in a vain circle! By-and-by we came to a big rock of crushed-strawberry colour with vermilion trimmings, and Ransson called Klaas back. He said, “Look here, Klaas; we’ve passed this blamed klip six times already! Now, you may think this funny, but we don’t, and I’m going to mark this pebble with my hatchet, and if we pass it again--there’ll be trouble.” Klaas must have seen that we were not to be trifled with, for we didn’t pass the rock again after that, and in about a week--Ransson says it was the same evening, but I know better--we suddenly emerged from a narrow gap in the rock ... and there, within a hundred yards, lay a glorious shining stretch of beautiful water bordered by a broad belt of luxuriant trees; and a vivid lawn of velvet turf extended almost to our very feet! No transformation scene could have been more dramatically sudden ... we had been riding through an inferno and suddenly here was Paradise! The poor nags spurted at the welcome sight, and within a couple of minutes our scanty clothing was off, and we were up to our necks in the water and letting the whole of the Orange River run down our thirsty throttles.