At daylight we were awakened by the jolting of the wagon, and found that our bodyguard had inspanned, and, having dug us out of the muddy prison, had succeeded in getting us under way. Hastily making our toilets with difficulty, we were thrown from side to side of the wagon at every lurch; we jumped out and walked, finding the exercise preferable to the jarring of the vehicle. Indeed, we walked most of the journey, and were better for it. Enjoying an excellent breakfast, which again put us in good spirits, we were beginning to think we should have a clear day, but another spell of rain at ten o'clock came on. It continued raining all day, with short intervals of sunshine. These were taken advantage of to make short treks. At four o'clock, as we were sitting in the fore part of our chariot looking out at the drizzling rain, the front wheels slowly sank and nearly disappeared in a deep mud hole, bringing the steaming oxen to a full stop. In vain the driver cracked his long whip and yelled; we were hopelessly stuck. I was sitting in front when the accident occurred, and jumped out, landing in a deep mud hole. We slept that night at an angle of nearly forty-five degrees, and when morning broke it was welcome, as it brought with it some bright sunshine and prospect of clearing weather. It took five hours and the effort of the combined lungs of the party upon the oxen, together with the inventive genius and experience of all the members of our staff, to get us out of that mud hole. They outspanned and inspanned three times before the wagon stirred, and a hole had been dug big enough to bury us all in before the wheels were released. At last, with a whoop and a yell and a groan, it was hoisted out of its oozy prison and drawn onto the veldt, when the oxen were outspanned and breakfast was eaten. During several successive days, while travelling in the Orange Free State, we passed hundreds of huge ant-hills. One might say there are villages of these; they are formed together in thousands, they disappear for a space, and are again met with. Some of them measure ten feet and more in circumference, and are between three and four feet high, and are filled with black and yellow ants. The clay becomes hard from the sun's rays. An ox-wagon driver hews out an ant-hill forming an oven, in which he cooks his bread, the clay burning like a slow fire, and with an intense heat.