The waggons were sent on, and Selous and myself mounted
our horses and soon left the desolate little town of Lichten-
berg far behind, speeding on our way through the grassy
prairie, past the little town of Jacobsdaal, with its small
street lined with stores and the orthodox Boer church, until
we entered the town of Zeerust, another trading centre within
the Transvaal. Here we accepted the hospitalities of
Mr. Greite.
We heard that great discontent was felt and manifested
by the Boers with reference to the terms recently agreed
upon by the Boer Convention in England, with regard to
the question of the frontier line.
A number of Boers were met and some English traders.
With one of the latter, Mr. Thomas, who had just returned
from the interior, I passed a good deal of leisure time
in the endeavour to overcome some ‘initial instructions in
the Matabeli tongue, which he very kindly agreed to
teach me.
Mr. Selous had an awkward piece of intelligence one day.
Small-pox had broken out in the town, and we would evidently
have to undergo the disagreeable operation of being
half-asphyxiated by the noxious fumes of sulphur, while we
were shut up in a small room set apart for fumigation.
Under these circumstances we lost no time in making a start.
Now we were nearing the borders of Bechuana-land, which
lately has become the apple of discord among enthusiastic
colonisers. Two days’ journey brought us to the town of
Linokana, the chief of which was Ikalafing, of the tribe of
Bahurutsis. The town is divided into three parts. Each
part has a petty chief. The population , is about 3,000, and
the language spoken is Sechuana, the same as is spoken by
all Bechuana tribes.
Every Kaffir holding a hut pays ten shillings annually
to the Transvaal government. Just after the English war,
in 1881, the Boers advanced upon Linokana with a force
about 600 strong, and demanded 5,000 head of cattle—
a robbery committed under the • pretext that Ikalafing
was building a wall round the town with a view to fortification.
This wall, which was only partially built, was
demolished by the Boers’ command, who made the inhabitants
build a monument with the debris, a structure
which still stands, or did -when I was there, to remind the
black man that the white man’s might is the devil’s right.
A missionary station standing here, supported by the
Hermansberg Missionary Society of Hanover, was superintended
by Mr. Jansen, a Dane. That he had been industrious
was clearly shown by the comfortable house he
had built for himself. There it was, surrounded by magnificent
specimens of the Eucalyptus, which he himself had
planted eighteen years before. Gardens and corn-fields
might also be seen. I heard little of spiritual rescues, but
Mr. Jansen told me he had a good many followers.
Moghose’s station, which we next arrived at, is thoroughly
within Bechuana-land. The Transvaal was now left
on the south. Chief Ramotsa rules Moghose’s. He is the
oldest chief among the Bechuana tribes (the name of his
tribe is Maleti), and his station is larger than the others we
have passed. I t may be mentioned here that King Matebi
used to rule all the Bechuana tribes, but now each tribe has
its own chief.
At Moghose’s we were joined by Mr. Argent Kirton, an
interior trader, who intended to accompany us with his
waggon to Bamangwato or Shoshong.
A man who had left Zeerust on the day after our hasty
departure, told us that in the interval there had been seven
fresh cases of small-pox. All the people, white and black,