the sun reached the well-known downward point I would
gladly, with lithe steps and a light heart, hurry off to one
of the favourite retreats. At such times I was as lively as
anyone could be when going to witness some remarkable
novelty or some grand spectacle in the artificial institutions
of civilized life. I would talk to myself, all the time
whittling a piece of wood like a thoroughbred " down-
easter from the state of Maine. Again and again in
lightning thoughts I would re-enact the moments of excitement
passed in bygone days.
Upon that evening I thought of our retreat from Chuzu’s.
Even now the memory of that night, and the weary days
which followed, arises vividly in my mind. I t was a strange
affair. The vindictive and suspicious monarch must have
thought me very ambitious if he imagined that I wanted his
barren land of rocks. How I would have liked to have seen
his face next morning when he found that the bird had
flown ! Worse than all, too, that the valuables had also disappeared
I Those crotchety Mashona folk had given trouble
during the forced retreat. They would insist upon halting
and making fires, which I was equally determined they
should not do; no sooner did they fan the dry dung and
grass into a flame than I would put it out. Sometimes, when
they thought it for their own good, they would hurry on, but
after crossing the river they had stopped and said: “ What
would the white man do if we were to leave him and all his
things now ? ”
I remember that the chief at Igova was indignant when
he heard of my treatment by Chuzu.
On our return to the Waynge river (where I had walked
miles ahead of the party), I was very familiar with the
features of the old landscape hemming in the river with
rugged masses of towering cliff and half-tumbling crag,
through which the waters, in a crystal stream, went merrily
on, dancing, glancing, and singing on its course. The
silent pool, too, I remember, as a mirror which on many
occasions gave a reflection of a wild-looking man with a
rough-like heard and tattered clothes.
Then there was the old camp, the arena of excited and
feverish actions. The deserted spot had been swept completely
by fierce flames of fire since we had gone, and around
it blackened embers and bones were strewn by the cheerless
wind, until it reminded one of a deserted abode of wild
beasts rather than a habitation of human beings.
What a start I got there! Awful sounds, indescribable
perhaps, but something between a bark and a cry, came
from a cave within a few yards of where I was. Breathless
with curiosity, I went up to the place, and there found
an old baboon, whose vocalisation had been the cause of
the start; but on my appearance the screeching creature
darted quickly off, stricken with fright.
Then after the severe fifty miles had been retraced there
was the wildly exciting eland hunt on the Etsatse river,
when the victims to our rifles fell just as the last rays of
sunlight flashed out from the west.
Thoughts such as these recalled the chief events of the
journey. They do so distinctly even now as I write after a
longer lapse of time. I traverse the old ground again,
grapple once more with old difficulties, and almost revive
the old relief that was felt about troubles overcome, finding
in the whole retrospect a meditation that is not without its
generous gift of pleasure.