Our commissariat was occasionally supplemented by a delicious bird,
about the size of a pheasant, called the kooran, as well as by a few
pheasants, partridges, and guinea fowls.
One afternoon we were exposed to a thrilling adventure, which, but for
the merciful interposition of Providence, might have terminated in a
most disastrous way. Suddenly, as we were driving along the road,
through a dense wood, we discovered to the right of us the light of an
immense bush fire. It was careering wildly along, fiercely burning, and
sweeping everything before it. We saw it was coming swiftly towards the
road we were travelling. We pulled up the horses, and taking out lucifer
matches, jumped off the wagon, and tried to set alight to the grass,
which was about five or six feet high, and very dry, close by us, in
order to secure a clear open space around us. But it was too late. The
fierce fire, to the height of several feet, was rushing and crashing
through the wood furiously towards us. Another moment, and we should
have been within its terrible grasp, and wagon, horses, and ourselves
infallibly burnt. It was in truth an awful crisis. We jumped back into
the wagon and pushed frantically forward.
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