Taking a south-easterly route, we drove on to Schneeman’s Pan, where we halted for the rest of the day. Throughout the early morning, nothing could be more agreeable than the odour of the white cinque-foiled blossoms of the mopondo shrubs. In the evening we started off again, and travelled all night and some part of the next day until we came to the edge of the Gashuma Flat. Here we were obliged to pause for a time, because the recent rains had transformed the meadows into perfect swamps. The grass, known by the natives as matumbe, was in many places six or seven feet high, so that we did not see a great quantity of game. Whilst we were halting, we were overtaken by six Marutse who had hastened after us to bring some buffalo horns of mine that Westbeech had accidentally left behind at Sesheke, as well as an elephant’s tusk weighing 25 lbs. They followed us as far as Panda ma Tenka, under the excuse that they wanted to get some lucifer-matches for Sepopo, but their real motive was to ascertain whether Kapella had joined our party.

Ever since I had become aware of Kapella’s circumstances I had endeavoured to keep him supplied with corn from my own and Westbeech’s store, and he had left the Leshumo valley, going on ahead of us towards the Gashuma Flat, where we again fell in with him and with Moia. Amongst their attendants I recognized one of the boatmen who had behaved so badly to me after starting from Sesheke.

As not a single head of game had been shot by one of our party for some days, the arrival of a goat, which Bradshaw sent us from Panda ma Tenka, was a very agreeable surprise. Another night’s journey took us beyond the tsetse district, and after putting up the heavy waggons beside one of the Panda ma Tenka affluents, we proceeded in advance to the settlement itself. It was sad to see how fever had reduced both Bradshaw and my former servant Pit to the merest skeletons.

Soon after our arrival Westbeech made me the unwelcome communication that the tsetse-fly had committed such havoc amongst his bullocks that he was absolutely unable to fulfil the contract he had made when he purchased my team. He could not take my waggon to the south, and had no alternative but to ask me to transfer my packages to one of those in which he was conveying his own ivory. The removal of my property occupied me some time on the 27th.

We here met an ivory-dealer who had just come from Shoshong. He told us that Khame was still using all his influence to check the importation of brandy, and with regard to myself he observed that the people of Shoshong would be much surprised to see me back again, as they had been quite sure that I should never return to the south.

After clearing out my waggon, I spent the rest of the day in trying to make good any deficiencies in my collections. I bought 1300 beetles from Bradshaw, for which I gave him 20l., and paid him in ivory for forty bird-skins besides; Walsh also for some of my ivory let me have sixty-three more bird-skins.

On the following afternoon we left the valley. Westbeech showed me every possible consideration on the way to Shoshong, but naturally I could not feel anything like the same independence as when travelling in my own waggon; there were many places in which we only halted a few hours where I should have been glad to stay on indefinitely, and I saw enough of the West Matabele country to satisfy me that an explorer might find things of interest in it to occupy him for a year at least.

During our passage along the valley our dogs started two vlakvarks. White men seized their guns, black men followed with their assegais, and a hot chase lasted for twenty minutes before the creatures were brought down. Although it has more formidable tusks than any other of its species, in comparison with the European wild boar, the vlakvark is a feeble, spiritless creature; its skin is extremely thin, and nothing gives it so remarkable an appearance as its conspicuous white whiskers.

I did not get much sleep on the first night after the transfer of my boxes; they had been so shaken about in their day’s journey that I could not lie down to rest until I had properly rearranged them. Next morning while passing over the last of the grassy glades that are so frequent between the Zambesi district and the sandy pool plateau, I observed that herds of ostriches had been along the game-tracks. Had I been independent I should certainly have stayed a day or two and made a deliberate investigation of some of the habits of these birds by following up their traces into the woods; but here, as along the rest of the way, although I took every available opportunity of seeing what I could, and devoted much of the night to recording what I had seen by day, I was constantly deploring the rapid pace at which we had to travel.

Before reaching Henry’s Pan on the 3rd of February, I noticed that a herd of at least twenty giraffes had preceded us on our road. As we approached the Tamasetze pools we were met by a horseman whom we recognized as a trader named Webster, who had formerly been an associate of Anderson, an ivory-dealer that I have already mentioned. Anderson had now gone back, and Webster, as he informed us, was here in the neighbourhood of Tamasetze hunting ostriches, being encamped almost close by with two others, one of whom, named Mayer, I had met at one of the Klamaklenyana springs whilst travelling northwards; the other I will simply designate as Z. This Z., who professed that he had once been a trader, had now come into this district under rather peculiar circumstances. The Zoological Society of London had written out to Cape Town for a young white rhinoceros, for which they offered the sum of 500l., and attracted by the liberal bidding, Z. had resolved to try his chance of securing the prize.

His first proceeding was to provide himself with a supply of barter goods which he reckoned he could dispose of at a profit of some 500 per cent., including a very considerable proportion of “fire-water,” for which he felt certain the demand would be great. He was quite aware that the likeliest place in which to obtain a rhinoceros such as he wanted was in the Mashona country; but he had been guilty of some offence in Matabele-land, so that he was afraid to apply to the king for permission to re-enter his dominions. Accordingly he betook himself to Shoshong, but as it came to Khame’s knowledge that he was bringing brandy for sale, he was forthwith ordered to return to the south. However, he was unwilling to be diverted from his purpose, and went to Khame and gave him a distinct promise that he would carry back all the spirit and dispose of it to the Damara emigrants on the Limpopo. Khame, not apprehending the ruse that was to be played, expressed himself satisfied. Z. started off towards the Limpopo, but was back again so quickly that his return awakened some suspicion; however, by pointing to his empty waggons, and declaring that he had found a readier sale than he anticipated, he succeeded in making the king believe that it was all fair. The truth was he had only concealed his casks in the woods.

Receiving the king’s permission to proceed, Z. now started on his venture. He lost no time in picking up his contraband goods, and made his way north-west through West Matabele and Makalaka-land towards the sandy pool plateau, giving out to the Zulus that he was Captain Y., and that he was anxious to obtain permission to visit the Victoria Falls. He sent messengers to Lo Bengula, the Zulu king at Gubuluwayo, to that effect, but spending several months afterwards on the pool plateau, he lost the four horses he had brought with him; however he succeeded in disposing of all his goods except four kegs of spirits of wine.

Meanwhile Khame had heard of his proceedings through some travelling Bamangwatos, and from the Masarwas and Madenassanas, who resided near the plateau, and Z., aware that his smuggling had been discovered, was in a state of great alarm lest he should be prohibited from returning to the south; for reasons already stated, he was even more afraid of falling into the hands of Lo Bengula, and as he was obliged to abandon his scheme of getting the rhinoceros, he hailed our arrival as a circumstance that might be turned to his advantage.

Poor Mayer was terribly altered since I saw him last; the ravages of fever in a few weeks had pulled him down so much that I hardly knew him. Several of Z.’s servants were also suffering from weakness which the fever had brought on, and he wished me to prescribe for them. I could only tell him that I had not a grain of medicine left, having given the last which I had bought of Bradshaw to Pit and Jan Mahura’s son; at the same time I instructed him that he would materially benefit the men’s muscles if he would make them rub their ankles with some of his brandy. It was then he told me that he had no brandy left, having sold everything except some spirits of wine. That, I replied, would answer the purpose just as well.

But Z. had no idea of employing his spirits of wine for any such beneficent object; he diluted his alcohol as freely as he dared with water, and took an early opportunity of selling it to my fellow-travellers, principally to Westbeech, for 33l. The atrocious stuff completely overpowered Westbeech, and Z. took advantage of his condition to induce him to purchase his team, thereby ensuring that it should not fall into Khame’s hands.

I am only too ready to draw a veil over the proceedings of the rest of that sojourn at Tamasetze; they are even now painful in the retrospect; suffice it to say, that they ended in an arrangement by which Z. was to be conveyed to the south as Westbeech’s guest. He seemed to rejoice in the recollection that although his expedition had not brought him any vast profit, at least it had entailed no serious loss.

Leaving Tamasetze on the 7th, we went on past the Tamafopa and Yoruah pools towards the most northerly of the Klamaklenyana springs, where a road branched off to the south-east to the Makalaka country. The deplorable effects of Z.’s alcohol extended beyond our stay at Tamasetze, and the man who drove the waggon in which I was riding remained so drunk that several times the vehicle was in danger of being overturned, and more than once I was obliged to take the reins, thus exposing myself in a way which in my condition of health proved very bad.

At the Yoruah pools Bradshaw had a relapse; Diamond and a waggon-driver fell ill; my own servant, Elephant, had an attack of dysentery, and two more of Westbeech’s people showed symptoms of fever; in consequence of such an amount of sickness we halted for nearly two days, an interval of which I took all the advantage I could to add to my store of natural curiosities. We did not reach the springs until the 12th, and started again the same evening. Game was very scarce on the plateau, obviously owing to the fact that the hollows in the woods were so full of rainwater that the animals had no occasion to resort to the springs near the roads.

As the result of my premature exposure I had a severe shivering fit next night, and to add to my misfortune our tipsy driver failed to get out of the way of a bough that protruded across the road, and the concussion was so severe that all the coleoptera that I had collected during the last five days were damaged, and many of them quite destroyed.

We had a toilsome march next day through a dense sandy underwood. In the night a herd of rhinoceroses and some elephants crossed our path, and shortly afterwards we came to a glade called Tamasanka, containing some pools that never dry up. The water in them was clear, but Westbeech told me that if kept in a vessel for two or three days it always begins to thicken. I had no opportunity of proving the fact for myself.

In the afternoon I for the first time saw a widow-bird (Vidua paradisea), a species of finch which is very common on the west coast; I also found fly-catchers, pyroles, small speckled-green woodpeckers, and the Vidua regia. As a general rule birds abounded more in the open parts of the pool plateau than in the densely wooded district where the ponds lay in small glades.

For the two succeeding days the track was so thickly overgrown with grass that we had some difficulty in determining our proper route. The servants, in investigating the path, were highly delighted at finding the half-eaten carcase of a giraffe that had probably been killed by lions.

On the 16th we came to a region which is almost a precise counterpart of the Maque plain, being covered with mapani-trees and abounding in pools full of fish. The natives call it the Libanani, and it forms the south-eastern extremity of the plateau. It now belongs to the eastern Bamangwatos and the Matabele; but in Moselikatze’s time it belonged exclusively to the Matabele, being the most westerly part of their territory; its outlying parts, however, were so continually ravaged by lions, that no safety could be secured for cattle, which consequently had all to be withdrawn. The woods are thick only at the edge of the ponds, which I imagine are all in the line of what was the bed of a river, that in all likelihood has now been dry for centuries.

From the open character of the adjacent country the Libanani glade has a special charm for sportsmen. It abounds in many varieties of game, from the duykerbock to the elephant, and here, as in other parts of the plateau, the ornithologist will find a most interesting field for study in the waders and swimming-birds. Both by day and by night, too, birds of prey are perpetually to be observed, and in the moist places, where the soil is carpeted with flowers, sun-birds and bee-eaters may be seen in swarms, while in the boughs that overhang the water, the bright blue Alcedo cristata, the Halcyon Swainsonii and the black-and-white Ceryle rudis are perpetually sporting. I must also include in my list the giant heron (Ardea Goliath), and the beautiful little Nettapus Madagascariensis. This is of the goose tribe; it is from twelve to fourteen inches long; its head, neck, and back are of a glossy dark green; underneath it is white, except the breast and sides, which are of a reddish brown; its face and throat are also white, and it has a bright green spot on either side of its neck.

Attractive as the diversity of animal life makes the Libanani, there are two reasons why it is very undesirable to make a lengthened stay there; in the first place the pools at the end of summer exhale a very malarious atmosphere, and in the second, it is infested with yellow cobras, which, in the way to which I have elsewhere referred, lie in wait in the trees overhanging the game tracks. Westbeech told me that in dry winters the ponds contain so little water that the fish in them, of which the glanis is the most common species, can be easily caught with the hands. It was here that for the first time for many months I heard the howl of the silver jackal (Canis mesomelas). I found that many of the plants were identical with those that grew in the salt-lake basin, and was consequently confirmed in my opinion that the Libanani is one of the lowest parts of the whole pool-plateau district. I noticed also some handsome palm-bushes, the first I had seen since I left the vicinity of the Zambesi.

Winter was said to be the best time for game, and this was confirmed by the small amount of success that some of our party had in going out to shoot for the replenishment of our larder; but even at this period of the year I noticed the tracks of a considerable number of animals across our path, amongst them those of the black rhinoceros.

A long drive on the 18th brought us into the valley of the Nata, which we should subsequently have to cross. The river here had all the characteristics of a sandy spruit, opening at intervals into pools, the banks being overgrown with grass six or seven feet high, and containing a number of hollows, which after floods are left full of water, corresponding in this respect with many South African streams, particularly those included in the Limpopo system.

Our road next lay through a dense mapani-wood. Four years previously, Westbeech had been the first traveller to use this route by the Nata and Maytengue rivers to the Matabele country, and I accordingly gave the track the name of the “Westbeech road.” In the evening we came to a grass plain almost entirely enclosed by woods, where the Maytengue river in its course from the Makalaka lands is said to lose itself in the soil.

The Maytengue appears to diminish both in breadth and depth towards its mouth, and its banks are literally riddled with pitfalls. We crossed a great many deep but narrow dry rain-channels, hundreds of which find their way to the river, but flow for so short a time that they hardly make any appreciable difference to the stream, which consequently dwindles away in the lower part of its wide sandy bed; the longer section of its course runs through the fine hill-country occupied by Menon’s Makalakas.

Throughout the whole of the next day we followed the right hand bank of the stream. Bradshaw had an attack of dysentery, and Westbeech was so far from well that I insisted upon his coming for a time under my immediate charge. Ever since we left Panda ma Tenka the weather had been very trying, the days, and especially the afternoons, being extremely sultry, the nights bitterly cold.

Just before we crossed the Maytengue on the 21st, my attention was called to a tall hollow mapani-tree, beneath which a Makalaka chief had been buried. The people had a superstition that their “morimo,” or unseen god, resided in the tree, and as they passed by were in the habit of dropping their bracelets into the hollow trunk. They had the same belief about one of the caves in the hills, and carried presents every year to the spot.

The country became more elevated as we proceeded, and some hills of granite rose in front of us, though not lofty enough to shut out the view of the real Makalaka heights in the background. On arriving at the first of these hills, Westbeech, with Bradshaw, walked off to obtain an interview with Menon; he was anxious to get the chief to provide him an escort as far as Gubuluwayo the capital, where he wanted to see a friend of his, named Philipps, who was staying with Lo Bengula, and to induce him to go on with him to Shoshong, and assist him in settling his accounts. The high esteem in which Westbeech was held by the Makalakas ensured him a kind reception from Menon, who not only granted the request that was made, but lost no time in paying a return visit.

Ever since we had entered the Maytengue valley, Z. had been in a perpetual fidget. Whether we were on the move or at rest his uneasiness continued just the same; he was always on the look-out, and there seemed no end to his fancies. He had never been a favourite with any of our party, and Westbeech openly avowed his disapproval of all his business transactions; finding, therefore, that there was no one on the road who cared for his society, he would try and seek refuge with me, confined as I was to my waggon. But even here his nervousness did not desert him: as he sat beside me he would continually ask whether I did not hear a noise in the woods, or had not seen some one disappearing in the bushes. At night, too, when we were all round the camp-fire I generally found that he took his place at my side, although he was never still long together, but kept creeping away to peer into the darkness. I remonstrated with him for his strange behaviour, without succeeding for a long time in getting anything out of him; after a while, however, he told me that on a previous visit, as he and his servants were returning single file from an elephant-hunt, a gun had accidentally gone off and killed one of Menon’s people, and he now feared that he might be recognized and accused of the deed. Understanding that we were here encamping close to Menon’s residence, his alarm became more intense than ever, and he kept most cautiously in the rear of the waggons, not suffering his face to be seen until the chief’s visit was over.

Menon was a gaunt-looking man of about fifty years of age, and an arrant hypocrite. All his attendants had countenances as ignoble as his own. It is in order that the tribe may be distinguished from their brethren north of the Zambesi that I have designated them as Menon’s Makalakas. Together with their southern compatriots they were subjugated by the Matabele Zulus in 1837. Up to that time they had been peaceful agriculturists and cattle-breeders; but now they do very little in the way of rural pursuits, and have become the most notorious thieves and the greatest rascals in South Africa, a change entirely to be attributed to the demoralizing and vicious influence of their oppressors.

The six attendants of the chief squatted round our fire, and Menon, wrapped in a mangy mantle of wild cats’ skins, remained standing. He scanned every one so carefully, that it was quite apparent he was looking for some one in particular, and an expression of dissatisfaction rested on his face as he closed his scrutiny. He spoke of the death of his servant, saying that he had heard all about the affair from a man who had been in company with the victim, adding that he had been assured by one of his spies that the perpetrator of the deed was a white man, who had joined our party at the Nata river. Disappointed at not identifying the individual he wanted, Menon began to vent his annoyance by demanding toll from Walsh and myself, under the pretext that we had entered his territory for the first time. Westbeech, who was the only one among us who understood the Makalaka dialect, told us to be quiet and to take no notice of the chief, and then proceeded to give him such a lecture on the duty of hospitality, that he very soon altered his tone, and promised that he would send us a goat, adding that he was sorry that he was unable to give us a cow, as the Matabele had stolen all his cattle. We acknowledged his politeness by making him a present of powder and shot, which he accepted as graciously as he could.

After he was gone, one of his attendants, a mean-looking creature, lingered behind with our servants near the fire; the behaviour of the fellow was peculiar, and I kept my eye on him. He was pretending to warm himself, but it was easy to see that he was looking behind the waggons. All at once he stirred the fire into a blaze. He had caught sight of Z., who, not observing that a stranger was amongst our party, had returned from his retreat in the rear. He inquired nervously of me whether Menon had asked any questions about him, and when I replied that he had alluded to the death of the Makalaka, he jumped up and swore that Menon was a great liar. At this moment Menon’s man, who most probably had heard what passed, got up and walked quietly away.

“Look,” I said to Z., “that fellow is one of Menon’s spies!”

Z. clenched his fist and made a movement as if he would run after him, but his courage failed him, and he remained where he was.

When we retired at night to our waggons, it was manifest that Z. was still very uneasy, and by the glances he threw in all directions he showed that he was apprehensive of some sudden attack.

Of the men who came with Menon, two were armed with assegais, and four carried kiris. Some of the Makalakas have muskets.

The Makalaka women wear short leather petticoats, covered with white and violet beads; they are fairly expert in various kinds of handicraft, but the specimens I saw were on the whole inferior to the work of the Bechuanas.

It appeared to me that the Maytengue valley has all the elements of a future El Dorado. There is excellent pasturage on the wooded downs, and for the naturalist it is a region full of delight; the great drawback to its being properly explored is the unsatisfactory character of the natives.

When Westbeech, accompanied by a servant on horseback and a few Makalakas on foot, set out on his visit to Gubuluwayo, the rest of us proceeded on our way, but only for about three miles. We halted under a morula-tree, staying for the double purpose of purchasing corn and melons, and receiving the goat that Menon had promised us. We soon came upon a great assembly of Makalakas, and at first imagined that some festival was being celebrated. We were not long, however, in being informed that Menon was about to hold an assize, and that Z. was forthwith to be summoned to take his trial. And so it proved; Z. was sent for, and as the cause was to be tried in Sechuana, Jan Mahura was appointed to act as interpreter. The trial was of short duration, and Z. was adjudged guilty. Menon’s sentence was somewhat remarkable; it was to the effect that it did not matter whether the white man had really shot the Makalaka or not; it did not matter whether the gun had or had not gone off accidentally; the white man must make compensation, both to the dead man’s relatives and to himself, the dead man’s master.

Great was Z.’s alarm; his face turned crimson; he trembled with agitation; he began to assert his innocence with such volubility that Jan Mahura in vain tried to keep pace with him. At last, finding that the defendant was only damaging his own case, the interpreter took up the matter independently, and argued with such good effect, that in spite of the outcry of the relations of the deceased, Menon ruled that a fine should be inflicted, consisting of a coloured woollen shirt, a blanket, and seven pocket-handkerchiefs, instead of the musket and ammunition and the lot of woollen goods he had intended to demand. He insisted, moreover, that the shirt should fall to his own lot as arbitrator; and as soon as he received it, he doubled it up and was walking away quite content. But the relations were not to be pacified quite so easily; they flung the blanket and the handkerchiefs down before Z.’s feet, and abusing him vehemently as a murderer, made such an outcry that Menon was obliged to come back. Jan Mahura’s tact again proved adequate to the occasion. He whispered to Z. that he should offer blanket and handkerchiefs all to the chief, and so secure him as an ally. Menon accepted the contribution, sent all the complainants quickly to the right about, and thus put an end to the whole affair.

The Makalakas appear to have very much the same aptitude for pilfering as the Masupias have for conjuring, and I was told of a circumstance which may serve to illustrate their thievish propensities. An ivory-trader purchased a tusk of a party of them and stowed it away in his waggon; another party soon afterwards brought a second tusk, but they asked a price for it so much higher that the trader hesitated; they urged him to have it weighed, and in the middle of the weighing process another lot of Makalakas arrived bringing a third tusk. Meantime, the first tusk was being deftly abstracted from the waggon. The men represented that they were in a great hurry, and induced the trader to buy the two tusks together. Having got their payment, the sellers made their way off quickly into the woods. The trader carried off his new purchase to compare what he had just bought with the tusk he had left in the waggon, and his chagrin may be better imagined than described when he found that the ivory had disappeared, and that after paying for three tusks he was only in possession of two.

As ivory can only be sold by clandestine means, when the natives want to dispose of any of the contraband article they generally come to a traveller in a party, and while some of them carry on the negotiations, the others watch their opportunity for laying their hands upon anything and everything within reach. It may almost be affirmed that nothing is safe except it has been tied or screwed to the panels of the waggon. Their dishonesty, as I have said, is ingrained, so thoroughly has it been instilled into them or forced upon them by the Matabele. During any conversation with them it is advisable to keep them at a distance, and to take care that at least one servant is left on each side of the waggon, and that even he is prohibited from talking with them. When, however, they find themselves baffled, and obliged to retire without securing any plunder, or when any of them has been detected in a theft, they will go back to their people, and declare that it is of no use trying to rob the white man, because he has “a good medicine;” meaning that he possesses a charm which enables him to see what is going on in one place while he is engaged in another.

In addition to their other disgusting qualities all the Makalakas south of the Zambesi, especially those under Matabele rule, are indescribably dirty. With the exception of those who have been in service under white men, I believe the majority of them have not washed for years, and I saw women wearing strings upon strings of beads, several pounds in weight, of which the undermost layers were literally sticking to their skins.

Since their subjugation to the Matabele, their mode of building their huts has very much degenerated, and most of their little villages are not much better than collections of ruins. Some few of them may be said to be fairly industrious; but almost the sole remaining virtue at all conspicuous in this sunken people is their extreme modesty and decorum, which is hardly equalled in any other of the South African tribes.

Above the underwood through which we passed in the afternoon rose a great number of granite hills, varying from twenty to seventy feet in height, and either pyramidal or conical in form. The further we advanced along the bank of the Maytengue, the finer the scenery became. From time to time we passed some more of the morula-trees that I have mentioned; each family in a village is allotted one or more of these, according to the population of the place, for its own special use; they are usually enclosed by a fence placed about three yards away from the stem, the object of which is to save the wild fruit from being devoured by animals as it falls. The pulp of the fruit is made into a beverage which has very much the character of cider, and the kernel, if I am rightly informed, is occasionally pounded and used as meal.

Our road several times brought us quite close to the Maytengue, and the country in the valley was often very charming. On the way I chanced to be a witness of a very affecting meeting between a negro and his aged mother; and various incidents were related to me by Diamond and others that all tended to confirm my belief that many a native has really refined feelings lurking in his breast which are only waiting for civilization to draw forth.

Our afternoon camp was made in the vicinity of several villages, of which the residents told us that a few days previously Menon had received a visit from a troop of Matabele soldiers, who had come to demand boys as recruits for their last-formed regiment. Menon had refused to comply, and it was only too likely, they said, that the refusal would cost him his life, as although the Makalakas are fairly supplied with guns, their villages are so small and scattered, that they are soon overpowered by such a force as the Matabele can bring against them. It was by mere force exercised in this way, and by carrying off the young lads violently from their parents, that in 1837 Moselikatze with a complement of only forty warriors began to found a kingdom which at present has an aggregate of about 20,000 fighting-men.

On the following day our route lay amongst the numerous granite hills, every few hundred yards opening a new and pleasant prospect to our view. At our first halting-place we fell in with a sub-chieftain named Henry, who was an old acquaintance of Westbeech’s, and out of regard to him provided sorghum, maize, and melons for the benefit of Bradshaw, who remained far from well. Henry had his people under very good control, and as long as we were near him we felt pretty secure against any great annoyance; during our halt, however, we were surprised by the sudden appearance of one of those scourges of the district, a Matabele warrior, who came blustering up and shouting, “Hulloa, white men! you have some of Sepopo’s people there. Give them up, or pay for them. If you don’t, one by one I’ll kill them all.” He had his gun in one hand, and in the other he brandished his kiri, which once very nearly touched my face. I was inclined to be angry, but controlled my temper, and warned the swaggering idiot off in a way that made all the Makalakas roar with laughter. Finding that he could make no impression upon me, he went to Bradshaw and Walsh, who merely laid their hands upon their rifles, an action which the fellow pretended that he was to take as a challenge, whereupon he began to storm more furiously than ever; but when they advanced towards him and showed that they were in earnest, he lost no time in beating a retreat, to the unbounded amusement of the lookers-on.

The next drive took us through fresh mountain scenery, the heights being clothed with the candelabra-euphorbias as I had seen them on the Bamangwato hills. The fields that we passed were of considerable extent; the farmsteads were large and well enclosed; the dwelling-houses situated in their most prominent parts. At intervals of about every eighty yards in the enclosure was a simple wooden pitfall. The whole of the Makalaka villages, however, were but a mere wreck of what they had been before the Matabele invaded the Matoppo mountains.

The village that we had last passed was called Kasheme, and before the day was gone we came to another named Bosi-mapani. The settlements hereabouts were very numerous, and the next morning we arrived at another, where, although we halted and unyoked our teams half a mile away from the residences, we were soon visited by a number of the people, who wanted to sell us provisions. Bradshaw, after bargaining with a party of the Makalakas, bought a goat and a sheep, but it happened at the moment that all our servants were engaged at the waggons, and that there was no one at hand to drive the purchase home to our encampment. After a while one man was procured, but before he could get near them, the animals had all scampered off. The cunning Makalakas had set their shepherd-boys to sound their pipes close by, and as soon as the goat and the sheep heard the accustomed note they galloped away, each to its separate herd. Our man succeeded in overtaking and capturing one of the sheep, but the other two creatures got clean away. It was in vain that we threatened to report the dealers to Lo Bengula. They took our threats in the calmest way, and walked off to their homes, contriving, before they went, to get possession of Westbeech’s pocket-knife. It is scarcely necessary to say, that neither the goat nor the sheep was ever recovered.

By the 25th we had diverged somewhat from the Maytengue. Most of the granite hills were now on our left; but we could see others still more important rising on the southern horizon in front of us.

The visits that from time to time continued to be made to us by Matabele soldiers were a perpetual source of uneasiness to Z.; he appeared to dread them much more than the Makalakas, and the mere sight of any Zulu made him creep back as rapidly and as stealthily as he could to his waggon. None of them ever recognized him, but it happened once during a noonday halt, that he came into collision with two of them in a way that almost cost him his life. Distinguishable at once as Matabele by their feather head-dresses, and by their aprons of wild cats’ tails, two young fellows came to the waggon begging for a “lapiana” (a piece of calico). Z.’s little dog flew at them, growling and barking, and one of them in his annoyance was about to give the animal a tremendous blow with his kiri, which probably would have dashed its brains out. Z. came rushing forward, flushed with rage, to protect his dog, and shook his fist in the face of the intruders. It was just the excuse for a fight which the Matabele wanted; a regular scrimmage ensued, and two to one as they were, a kiri would inevitably very soon have descended on Z.’s head if Bradshaw and I had not interfered in time. We held our guns in our hands, but when the young rascals saw that we did not raise them, they struck their kiris upon the ground and broke out into a storm of abuse, which they were still continuing, when an old Matabele, his rank as a warrior indicated by his leather circlet covered by hair, made his appearance on the scene. Hearing what had transpired, he caught hold of a good stout bough of a tree, and laid it vigorously about the shoulders of the offenders. He treated them exactly like naughty little boys, and they, like little boys, crept back in disgrace, keeping their grumbling to themselves.

In the course of the afternoon we came to a village named Kambusa. It consisted only of about fifteen huts, and belonged to a man of the name of Tantje, whom Westbeech knew very well, so that we had no fear of meeting with any annoyance in it. Tantje’s residence had two enclosures, one of stakes round his hut, and another of thorn-bushes outside his fields. This was the last of the Makalaka villages we had to pass; five-and-twenty years ago they extended another hundred miles to the south, but now we were close to the boundary of the province, and before the evening we had crossed the existing frontier.

Upon the shore of the little river Ashangena, about 600 yards away from the road, Diamond drew my attention to a bush, beneath which he informed me that Mr. Frank Oates, an Englishman, had been buried. He had been hunting in the district, and had taken fever and died. His death had really occurred in the Makalaka country, but it was necessary to bring him to be buried at the frontier. His brother, Mr. William Oates, in 1874 erected a gravestone over the spot.

We had two small streams to cross before we came to the Matliutse, which crossed our path transversely. During the last stage of our journey through Makalaka-land we had crossed no fewer than seventeen rain-streams, all of them flowing into the Maytengue, and yet forming, I believe, not more than a tenth part of the affluents of that river. The scenery was as fine as any I saw during my hurried journey through the country. The soil was chiefly granite, thickly veined with quartz, and in many places marked with dark slate-coloured mica, the strata being variously horizontal, vertical, or oblique, generally towards the top of the hills slanting downwards at an angle of seventy degrees to the south-west. I saw nothing more interesting than the picturesque masses of granite that crowned the slopes of the hills; so strange and fantastic were their forms that I could not resist entering them upon my chart with names corresponding to what seemed to be their shapes. One on the Matliutse I called “the cap;” another on the next spruit, “the two sparrows;” another, “the club;” and a fourth, to the right of the road, the most striking of all, I named “the pyramid.” The scenery gave me some idea how charming the country must be in the highlands in the upper parts of the Matliutse, Shasha, Tati, and Rhamakoban, which are all of them affluents of the Limpopo.

As I crossed the two Shasha rivers next day it became perfectly clear to my mind that the Shaneng must flow either into the Matliutse or one of its tributaries. The district seemed full of game, but not to the same extent as in former years. The animals of which I saw most were pallahs, zulu-hartebeests, harrisbocks, and zebras.

In the evening we halted on the right-hand shore of the rocky Shasha, a stream that has derived its name from the character of its bed. I took the opportunity of getting out a little distance towards the east, where, on one of the granite mounds, I found some ruins that had played their part in the history of central South Africa. The hill was isolated, and not so high as those near it, and it had been fortified by a wall composed of blocks of granite laid one upon another, without being fixed by cement of any kind. The wall was about 140 feet long, and enclosed a space of ground as nearly as possible on the top of the hill, being built on the natural crags in such a way that the artificial rampart it formed hardly rose in some parts many inches from the ground, whilst in other places it was six feet high; in thickness it varied from twelve to eighteen inches. It had an entrance facing the north, and there it projected so as to make a kind of avenue. The blocks of which it was made were flat, and varying in size from four to ten inches in length, three to six inches in width, and two to ten inches in depth, the flat sides being irregular trapeziums. My impression was that the occupants of this limited fortress—whether permanent or temporary there was nothing to decide—had also erected a superior palisade of wood or bushes above the top of the masonry; but as we were bound to recommence our journey in about two hours and a half, I had no opportunity of making a deliberate survey, or of commencing any excavations which might throw more light upon the subject. We had only time that evening to go a little farther, and the gathering twilight brought us to a halt on the left-hand shore of the river, which we crossed.

After traversing as many as twelve tributaries of the rocky Shasha, we crossed the sandy Shasha, which is connected with its fellow-stream, finding the scenery at the point where we quitted the river as beautiful as any in the whole West Matabele country. The abundance and variety of plants were truly marvellous; and on the slopes where the stems of the euphorbias were mouldering, I found numerous scolopendra, two kinds of scorpions, some lizards, and many sorts of insects. Since I had entered the Makalaka country I had had no return of fever; and although I was still very weak, I persevered in my naturalist’s pursuits, finding that the enjoyment refreshed me and more than compensated for a little extra fatigue. In many places the river was sandy, but not unfrequently the bed was of granite, that formed a sort of basin, or opened in a channel, by which the water threaded its way to the south, to lose itself in the marshes of the valley. The next stream at which we arrived was the Tati, and its bed was not only sandy, but so deep, and the banks so steep, that we had very considerable difficulty in getting across.

Two days later we found ourselves pushing our way along the right-hand bank of the Rhamakoban, crossing fourteen of its little tributaries, besides three of the Tati, the whole of which after heavy rain are sure to be full of water. The district about the Rhamakoban is noted amongst elephant-hunters for its great abundance of game; giraffes, zebras, grey pallahs, harrisbocks, gnus, hyænas, and bustards are frequently to be seen, lions, ostriches, and rhinoceroses being by no means rare. We were making our way forward with the best speed we could, because Bradshaw, who was in charge during Westbeech’s absence, had announced that his stock of corn, meal, tea, sugar, and salt was running short, and that it was necessary that we should reach the next settlement to procure fresh supplies.

After crossing eight of its right-hand tributaries we kept along the valley of the Rhamakoban until we turned into another valley, which led us under the highlands back again to the bank of the Tati. On our way I noticed some more of the remarkable rocks, and gave to one of them the name of “the tablets,” and to another that of “the white boundary stone,” close to which our road was joined by the road leading to the central Matabele-land. All this time we were passing a number of mapani-trees, constituting almost a forest, occasionally broken by extensive glades.

At the place where we again came upon the Tati, we saw on the slope of two low hills several buildings in the European style; only two of these, however, were occupied, one by Pit Jacobs, the elephant-hunter, the other by a Scotch ivory-trader named Brown. A few years back there had been no lack of life in the place; gold-diggers had congregated from all parts of the world in search of the precious metal, but the discovery that only quartz gold, and not alluvial, was to be obtained, damped their ardour and soon thinned their ranks. Various companies were formed to carry on the work, but they were ultimately obliged to abandon it on account of the insufficiency of machinery. The real cause of the failure was the distance from the coast, every piece of machinery, however simple its character, costing five or six times its own value for its transport up the country.

As a general rule not more than seven ounces of gold were found in a ton of quartz, though I was told that exceptional cases had been known where the ton had yielded twenty-four ounces. As well as carrying on his own business, Mr. Brown was now acting as agent for the companies in liquidation, as some of their property was still undisposed of. I saw the remains of the steam-engine by which the quartz had been pounded still standing in the Tati valley, a short distance below the settlement; the rock containing the gold had been brought from a spot some way inland, but when the pits, although they were by no means deep, once became filled with water, there was no second engine to empty them, and consequently the whole work was brought to a standstill.

Mr. Brown was away from home at the time of our arrival, having gone to Gubuluwayo to be married by Mr. Thompson, the resident missionary, to Miss Jacobs; his managing clerk, however, received us very courteously, and we were invited to take up our quarters in the place until Westbeech’s return.

Besides these two residents, I was not a little surprised to find that the Lotriets, whom I had met at Henry’s Pan, had settled at Tati, and were living in some grass-huts.

All waggons on their way from the Bamangwato country to the Matabele are bound to stop at Tati for a change of bullocks, and most of the traders keep extra teams of their own there to avoid unnecessary delay. The Matabele had at one time possessed immense herds of cattle, plundered for the most part from their neighbours, but the Roi-water plague, which had been brought in from the south, had made such frightful ravages among them that the king had ordained and enforced the measure to check any further spread of the disease.

There is always a guard of Matabele troops stationed at Tati, who are supposed to have surveillance over the countries to the south-east; but as far as I could make out their chief business consisted in annoying every white man who arrived, and in arresting all Makalakas on their way back from the diamond-fields, and after administering a severe flogging, seizing their guns and ammunition in the name of the king.