HO, FOB NOBTHEBN MATABELI-LAND / 213
tain like a mighty sphinx, which overlooked for all eternity
the western wilderness.
We stepped with a swinging gait into the depths of the
luxuriant forest “ I t’s an ill wind that blows nobody good,”
and my disappointment brought joy to others. While
visions of grave probabilities and graver possibilities filled
my mind, the household were singing—0 happy day!
They thought they were en route for the waggon. Roaming
was over. Soon they would revel in luxury in the hunter’s
home, in the balmy land of the honey bird.
Ho, for northern Matabeli-land ! There all was sunshine
and plenty. Meat, meat, meat, was to be eaten during the
intervals of long oblivious hours of happy sleep !
Ho, for Buluwayo, the kraal of the great black k in g !
Home! Home again, in time for the merry dance at the
opening of another year !
Shall it be so? Has the journey failed? Am I to
retrace my steps, desponding and disappointed, back to the
home of the white man ?
