Jock Of The Bushveld by Sir Percy Fitzpatrick (Chapter 24)( Page 3 ) The Last Trek

He was only the first to go; day by day others followed.  Some were only cattle: others were old friends and comrades on many a trek.  The two big after-oxen Achmoed and Bakir went down early; the Komati Drift had over-tried them, and the weight and jolting of the heavy disselboom on the bad roads finished them off.  These were the two inseparables who worked and grazed, walked and slept, side by side--never more than a few yards apart day or night since the day they became yoke-fellows.  They died on consecutive days. But the living wonder of that last trek was still old Zwaartland the front ox!  With his steady sober air, perfect understanding of his work, and firm clean buck-like tread, he still led the front span.  Before we reached the Crocodile his mate gave in--worn to death by the ebbing of his own strength and by the steady indomitable courage of his comrade. Old Zwaartland pulled on; but my heart sank as I looked at him and noted the slightly `staring' coat, the falling flanks, the tread less sure and brisk, and a look in his eyes that made me think he knew what was coming but would do his best. The gallant-hearted old fellow held on.  One after another we tried with him in the lead, half a dozen or more; but he wore them all down.  In the dongas and spruits, where the crossings were often very bad and steep, the waggons would stick for hours, and the wear and strain on the exhausted cattle was killing: it was bad enough for the man who drove them.  To see old Zwaartland then holding his ground, never for one moment turning or wavering while the others backed jibbed and swayed and dragged him staggering backwards, made one's heart ache.  The end was sure: flesh and blood will not last for ever; the stoutest heart can be broken. The worst of it was that with all the work and strain we accomplished less than we used to do before in a quarter of the time.  Distances formerly covered in one trek took three, four, and even five now. Water, never too plentiful in certain parts, was sadly diminished by the drought, and it sometimes took us three or even four treks to get from water to water.  Thus we had at times to drive the oxen back to the last place or on to the next one for their drinks, and by the time the poor beasts got back to the waggons to begin their trek they had done nearly as much as they were able to do. And trouble begot trouble, as usual!  Sam the respectable, who had drawn all his pay in Delagoa, gave up after one hard day and deserted me.  He said that the hand of the Lord had smitten me and mine, and great misfortune would come to all; so he left in the dark at Crocodile Drift, taking one of the leaders with him, and joined some waggons making for Lydenburg.  The work was too hard for him; it was late in the season; he feared the rains and fever; and he had no pluck or loyalty, and cared for no one but himself. I was left with three leaders and two drivers to manage four waggons. It was Jim who told me of Sam's desertion.  He had the cross, defiant, pre-occupied look of old; but there was also something of satisfaction in his air as he walked up to me and stood to deliver the great vindication of his own unerring judgment: "Sam has deserted you and taken his voorlooper."  He jerked the words out at me, speaking in Zulu.