Matabele-land, and some years ago had a bad name amongst the hunters and ivory-traders, on account of its being haunted by a large number of lions that were reputed to be unusually audacious.
The drive of the next day brought us through some hilly country, where there were a good many rain-pools, only three of which, however, retained any water in the winter. The second of the series was called Lemone Pan, and both here, and at the next, we found Bamangwato cattle-stations. Much to Z.’s discomfort, a number of Matabele people had accompanied our caravan all the way from Tati.
At night we made our camp at the Chakane Pan, the last of the three rain-pools, where we were told that Sechele was at war with the Bakhatlas on his territory. As we were unable to kill any game, and the provisions that we had brought from Tati were beginning to run short, we slaughtered one of our reserve bullocks. After starting again we crossed the Tawani, and found ourselves in the course of the night on the bank of the sandy Mahalapsi river. Early in the morning we were at the foot of the Bamangwato hills and close to Shoshong.
Being afraid to meet Khame, Z. parted company with us at this time, and turned towards the Damara emigrants on the Limpopo.
Hearing that the prolonged drought had scorched up all the grass, and that the Shoshon springs yielded hardly enough water to supply the needs of the population, a good many of our party resolved to rest where they were, and it was only a few of us who proceeded up the Francis Joseph Valley to the town, which was reached after an easy march.
