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Seven Years in South Africa.

town of Chwene-Chwene itself, and after crossing the valley on the Bechuana spruit, took up our quarters on the northern slope of the spur of the Bertha hills. On the banks of the spruit I noticed a deserted Barwa village containing about fifteen huts; they lay in an open meadow, and consisted merely of bundles of grass thrown like a cap over stakes about five feet long bound together at their upper ends.

The Great Marico was reached on the afternoon of the 30th. We made our encampment at a spot where a couple of diminutive islands, projecting above the rapid, made it possible to get across without any danger from crocodiles. The probability of there being an abundance of game on the opposite side induced me to stay for two or three days. Regardless of Pit’s warning that he had seen a lion’s track close by, I selected a place some hundred yards lower down, and resolved to go and keep watch there for whatever game might turn up. I took the precaution to enclose the spot with a low fence.

Soon after sunset I proceeded to carry out my intention. The passage of the river with its somewhat strong current in the dark was troublesome as well-as fatiguing. I reached my look-out, which I found by no means comfortable, and as the darkness gathered round me, I became conscious of a strange yearning for my distant home, and the image of my mother seemed to arise so visibly before me, that I could hardly persuade myself that she was not actually approaching. Phantasies of this kind were altogether unusual with me, and as the sense of awe appeared to increase, I began to debate with myself whether I had not better