The waggons had started ahead of us on the previous
day, so we had a long ride before us. We were now about
to enter the country termed by the Boers the “ Thirst
Land.” .
A short cut through the mountains immediately at the
back of the town lessened our journey considerably. Tremendous
conglomerations of rocks and boulders, of every
description in size and shape, composed the rugged mountains
on either side of our narrow track. These spoke of a
mighty volcanic upheaval, and I have rarely seen more imposing
examples of some of Nature’s old-world commotions.
We overtook the waggons on the north bank of the
Mahalapse river. The heat was excessive, and the flies were
out in myriads. At the waggons we found little Kanyemba,
Selous’ slave boy, whom he had got among the tribes near
the Zambesi; a funny little fellow, the companion and
feeder of the dogs and puppies. He was lying under a
small blanket, trying to sleep under extraordinary disadvantages,
seeing that the puppies were pulling and
tugging at the covering, wondering, no doubt, why their
playmate was so sulky, while the flies were swarming about
his head, the pests being worse here than I had seen them
in South Africa. The boy, it seems, had an attack of
measles. So Selous produced his medicine chest, a veritable
curiosity in its way. The extraordinary mixture of medicines
contained in a very small cardboard box, formed a
mystical arrangement which the owner alone could solve:
there was no elaborate labelling of bottles and boxes which
we have been taught to look for in every typical and
well-regulated medicine chest. Notwithstanding this, the
contents of Selous’ “ chest ” were not less effectual, and in
this case the results were all that could be desired. I must
say that I had a great liking for this tiny black boy; he
was so good-natured, and his happy little face always wore
a winning smile, far from being unlovely, for he was by no
means an example of the ugly type of the black race.
Inspanning immediately, we trekked through a country
of very monotonous appearance, passing the Tchakani vlei,
where Selous, in 1872, re-appeared after an absence of four
days, during which he had been lost in the veldt, and had
neither food nor drink. The small kopjie which stands
beside the vlei was his beacon as he wandered about the
trackless and sun-parched wilderness.
Black ants were swarming as we moved along, and a
most offensive odour arose when they were crushed by the
waggon’s wheels. We hunted every day, but hardly any
game could be seen.
Three or four hours at a time formed the spells of marching,
and not a little progress was made during the night, in
order to save the oxen, as the rivers all through this region
are almost dry. Few of them have any running water,
although about ten or twelve years ago they used to be
well-flowing streams. Now, even after the rains, there is
but little water.
What a strangely worthless land is this ! Everyone who
passes through the place must think so. There seemed to
be few inducements to the investing of capital in any part
of Bechuana-land through which I passed. This opinion
encourages me to remark freely that some of the later
travellers in these parts have been too cruel in picturing to
intending colonists that health, wealth, happiness, liberty,
equality, fraternity, peace, retrenchment, reform, and all
the other visionary blessings which the modern social state
hankers after, await them in this Edenless paradise. Why
should the truth be hid under the tinseled veil of eloquence ?
Why should this region, above all others, be described as a