I was riding ahead of my men when, all of a sudden,
I found numerous fresh spoor of oxen, and a little further
on I caught sight of several ponies. I hurried on and
found two waggons; these belonged to an American and
an English officer, and I rejoiced to think that at last
I should get something to eat and sufficient provisions
to take me to my camp. How I was to be disappointed
will soon be seen. I was greeted most cordially by the
two travellers, who had heard about me. They asked
me to breakfast, but I was so done that I could hardly
eat, and only enjoyed a cup of coffee with sugar and
milk. How delightful it seemed also to smoke a
cigarette. I explained to them the terrible plight I
was in ; but, although they condoled with me, no offer
of help was forthcoming. Putting pride aside, I asked
them to give me a few tins of preserved meat and sundry
provisions to go on with. What was my astonishment—
nay, my disgust—when the American, the owner of the
waggons (the British officer only accompanied him as a
companion) excused himself on the ground that their
tinned provisions were at the bottom of the waggons.
Then I begged for at least a little flour. “ Well,” said
the American to his- companion, ‘ you might give him
a couple of pannikins of meal.” The Englishman took
me to his waggon, and gave me about four pounds of
Boer- meal. He also gave me about a pound of sugar,
and begged me to accept a packet of cigarette papers
and a good supply of tobacco—his own property. He
was so ashamed of the shabbiness of his companion
that he apologised for it. “ You see,” he said simply, “ all
the things here are his own, and I can t dispose of
what isn’t mine; but I ’m disgusted.” This is the only
time during the whole of my African experience that
I have found a white man unwilling to assist another
white man. I should have done more for a starving
native than he did for me; in fact, I often have. How
many times have I been pressed to accept the half of
1 06
the scanty provisions or clothing of a European, an
utter stranger whom I met for the first time; and how
often have I done the same, and rejoiced to be of use
to one of my fellow creatures. There is no room for
churls in Africa.
But enough of this. I shall not quote the name of
this young American, a man of wealth, who started with
grand plans: he was going to reach the Congo from the
Cape, and, like many others, stopped short at the first
T RA V EL L IN G IN THE K A LAH AR I.
difficulty. That evening I slept near Watcha Vley,
feeling too bad to go any further that day. When I
awoke the next morning I found that my legs could not
carry me any longer. The pains in my knees and general
weakness increased every day, and I had to be hoisted
by four men on to my pony. I suffered real agony in
the saddle, and, in order to remain on horseback the least
possible time, I adopted the following system. Early in the
morning I used to start ahead, and holding hard to the
pommel of my saddle, go at a brisk pace until I reached
a pool or until I had ridden for four or five hours. I then
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