Chapter Eight.

Chapter Eight.The chief Gaseitaive’s territory of the Bangwaketse family of the Bechuanas.The next and third Bechuana chief from the Cape Colony is the chief Gaseitsive, whose territory is more extensive than Montsioa’s; his southern boundary joins on to the latter, along the entire length from east to west. His chief town is at Kanya, sixty-five miles north of Sehuba, Montsioa’s town, situated on the summit of a lofty hill, the highest of any in this part of the country. The chief lives in a well-built house, furnished similar to any European residence. The hill where the main part of the town is built, slopes gradually down towards the north, on the east and west, more suddenly on the south by a cliff, 180 feet in height, composed of rounded and well water-worn stones, from the size of a marble to an ostrich egg, forming a hard conglomerate, with dark brown gritty sand, and it has every appearance of having once been a shore-line, and the back of an ancient harbour. At the bottom of this cliff the lower town is built, and is the mission station and church of the London Missionary Society, under the Rev. Mr Good. This lower town stands at the upper end of an extensive level opening, surrounded on three sides by hills, open to the south, where a small sluit drains the land upon which the lower town stands. The principal road from the colony after passing through Montsioa’s territory at Maceby’s station, runs due north to Kanya; the distance from the former is sixty miles, from Molapo river; half-way, at Vaalpan Fits, is the division between Montsioa and Gaseitsive. The country is thickly wooded and very pretty; all to the west of this road is part of the Kalahara desert belonging to these two chiefs. A road from Melemo’s station on the Molapo joins this, and at Vaalpan Pits a road branches off to the left, through the desert, to Lake N’gami, a distance of 420 miles to the chief Molemo at Leshubatabe’s station, east of that lake.The principal watering-places along this road are Moshanen Kraal, thirty miles; Seletse, forty miles; Tans, twenty miles; Kaikai, 110, with small pits between; Makapolo Pans, 108, also small pans along the road; Goose Vlei, sixty-four miles beyond, and to Molemo’s station, near the lake, forty-eight. The country through which this road passes varies in character and scenery; the lower portion passes between isolated and picturesque hills, well-wooded to their summits with a variety of subtropical vegetation. Mokotontuane Hills are particularly noticeable for their beautiful flora. The plains and valleys have many Kaffir stations with their petty chiefs, under paramount chief Gaseitsive, who belongs to the Bangwaketse tribe of the Bechuana family. They are Moshanen, Montsioa’s old station; Seletse, Gabatane, Ses, Khokhochu, Lutlue, Tans, and several others, as also Bushman kraals where large herds of cattle are kept.The people are quiet and inoffensive, living the same kind of life their forefathers lived, thousands of years before. The men have their skin mantle, the women also, with their short kilt, beads of ostrich eggs, also brass wire from Kanya, for feathers, karosses, skins, and other native produce.The climate is almost perfect; no frosts in winter, which is the dry season, as rain rarely falls between April and October. Lions, wolves, leopards, and a host of the cat tribe, some of which are beautifully marked and make handsome karosses, which fetch a good price, are numerous over the whole of this part.The main transport road, already described, from Maceby station on the Molapo, in Montsioa’s territory, to Kanya, is the only road now open from the Cape Colony to the interior, for carrying on the colonial trade with the native tribes beyond, as now settled by the late Transvaal Convention. All the others passing northwards go through that Republic and are subject to a heavy tax, consequently they are closed to us. Previous to the Transvaal rebellion, we had six different roads for conveying merchandise from our two colonies, Natal and Cape Colony, free from taxation. The interior trade from Natal is entirely closed against English traders, in consequence of the distance being too great to go round to the only one now left to us. The other main roads to Kanya, besides the one already described, pass through the Transvaal and Zeerust, which has been given to the Boer Government, since Keats’ award has been so unwisely abandoned and their north-west border extended, the result of ignorance on the part of the British Government as to the importance of keeping in our own hands so valuable a part of Montsioa’s territory, for the purpose of greater freedom of communication with that vast native region beyond. The transport over them would have been much easier and cheaper, in consequence of good roads and an unlimited supply of water. The only road we have willingly confined ourselves to, from Maceby’s to Kanya, has only one permanent water, at Vaal-pan-pits, for sixty miles with a heavy road, which for heavy transport-waggons is a loss to the trader. The roads which the colonial trade passed over, now closed to us by the extension of the Transvaal boundary beyond Keats’ award, which should have been maintained, are as follows: From Kimberley to Taungs. Melema on the Molapo to Rinokano, and the river road along the Limpopo or from Rinokano to Kanya by two routes; another isviaMaamousa; a fourth passing along the open plains by the two salt-pans, and the other two, one to the north of Bloemhof, and from that town by the Vaal river roads—all concentrating on Molapo and Molmane, then through the new land given to the Transvaal by the Convention. This is the position in which the British Government has placed the two colonies with regard to the interior trade.The country through which these roads pass to Kanya is very lovely, and superior to any part of the colony. One of these passes through a drift of the Molmane river, a branch of the Klein Marico, passing on past John Mentji’s farm; a small lake in front of the house, surrounded with beautiful trees, and a pretty fountain at the back, with rising ground in the distance, is a spot to be remembered. Beyond is the fountain at Ludic’s, passing between hills clothed in every variety of foliage, on to Kanya; the distance is eighty miles. The other principal transport road to Kanya from Rinokano passes through a more lovely country than the one just described, the rich alluvial soil of the valleys, well watered by fine springs, which are small branches of the Notuane river, fine grass-lands studded with beautiful groups of trees and bush. On every side of the road, well-wooded, lofty, and picturesque hills—they may be termed mountains; others in the distance rearing their lofty heads, visible between the openings of those near. The subtropical plants, scarlet creepers climbing up and between the isolated rocks, piled one upon another, complete a landscape seldom to be surpassed for the beauty of its scenery.The distance to Kanya is fifty-four miles, ten miles from Rinokano, which is a large Kaffir station. When I first paid it a visit, an old chief Moelo lived there. It is a mission station of the German Mission Society, in charge of the Rev. Mr Jansen, who is noted for his hospitality to travellers; he has a beautiful garden well stocked with fruit, also orange and lemon trees. Monata, ten miles north of Rinokano, is the old station of the chief Marshelale, who, owing to the continual inroads of the Boers from the Transvaal stealing his cattle, removed to the other side of the mountains beyond Kanya, where Pelan lived. This old station has now been occupied by several Bastard families, who have built quite a town of good brick houses situated on a branch of the Notuane river, which runs through a pass in the mountain of great beauty. Above the poort near the springs are many Korannas; some spoke very good English, and gave me much information respecting the locality. Six miles beyond, the road takes a short turn to the left, passing between high hills for one mile, the road being very steep and stony, and a mile beyond you arrive at that singular and isolated hill called Moselekatze Kop, a lofty conical hill; the height from its base to summit is 275 feet, by my aneroid barometer. This is composed of hard sandstone and shale; great quantities of ironstone, and conglomerate in large boulders, cover the ground at the base, which appears to have fallen from the top; the rocks round about are blue and white metamorphic.As my intention was to scale it the next day, I outspanned under some fine trees close to the hill for the night, that I might be on the topmost point at sunrise, which at that season of the year (April) is about five o’clock; and as the sun rose above the cloudless horizon, with the pure clear atmosphere, it threw out all the distant mountain peaks in bold and well-defined outlines, although some of them were more than sixty miles distant; and as the sun rose, casting the deep shadows of the surrounding hills, and bringing out the rich green foliage of the trees and shrubs, it was a sight seldom to be seen. There are many cattle and vieh-posts for sheep and goats in these valleys, that belong to the people at Kanya, and other kraals, in the country belonging to the chief Gaseitsive.Leaving Moselekatze Kop, going to Kanya, the road turns west, then north-west for thirteen miles, to a deep and stony watercourse, that comes down from the mountain two miles distant, which is a branch of the river Tans and Sand, into the Notuane. Many picturesque sandstone hills of every variety of form, covered with rich subtropical vegetation to their summits, with gigantic rocks peeping out between the bushes, give a peculiar feature to the landscape. Some of the finest tree-aloes grow here to perfection, the stems measuring twenty-five feet, and in girth six feet, their long light-green pointed leaves measuring four feet, and when in bloom their many crimson flowers are beautiful objects. The country being so lovely, I remained at this stony river three days to sketch and prospect, and was rewarded by finding in the bed of the river, mixed up in the large stones, ancient flint implements, that had been washed down in heavy rains. Several of them were so jambed in between large boulders of many tons weight, that I had to get a crowbar to remove them. Some of these boulders measured over four feet in diameter, showing the force of the stream and quantity of water that falls in these thunderstorms.The temperature at night in my waggon in April was 68 degrees, and at mid-day 84 degrees. No large game has been seen, although the natives tell me there are koodoos, blue wildebeest or gnu, hartebeest and springbok.From this river the road winds through these beautiful valleys, passing a remarkable granite rock standing alone in the veldt, round like a Kaffir hut, twenty feet in height, continuing on through the same kind of country to Kanya. Another, in fact two other roads, leave Rinokano, and go direct to Molapololo, the chief Sechele’s station; one round by Ramoocha Khotla, named after an old chief, passing through Base Poort, a lovely spot, plenty of baboons and beautiful birds; we cross the Sand river four times, very stony, on to Sneyman’s farms, past the Spitz Kop, another remarkable hill, over an open flat, park-like, with beautiful clumps of trees, to Dwasberg, passing on the right Kolobekatze mountain, leaving on the left the Quagga and Kopani hills, and on to Ramoocha, where the chief Makose has a large station. These people belong to the Bamankitse tribe of the Bechuana family. It is a mission in charge of the Rev. Mr Schonenburg, of the Berlin Society. From this kraal the road divides, one going to Chene Chene, where the chief Maklapan lives on the bank of the Notuane, and then to Motsode, taking the Limpopo river road to Ba-Mangwato. The second goes direct to Molapololo; the third to the same town, through the Kaffir station Monope, under the chief Kuanette, of the Bahurutsi-Bamangane of the Bakatla tribe of the Bechuana family. Monope is also a Berlin Mission station, in charge of the Rev. Mr Tanson.The large Kaffir station of Monope is well situated on elevated ground, a gentle rise from the river Coloben, a branch of the Notuane, being protected by several large stone koptjies. The people are very quiet and civil, cultivate extensively Kaffir corn, and make karosses, which they sell to traders. When I first knew the people, twenty years ago, there was not a man or woman that dressed in European clothes; at the present time most of them are getting into the way of dressing. The men wear clothes, and will have the best.The Notuane river has many tributaries, that take their rise in this territory and at Rinokano, which drains the whole of this district, and falls into the Limpopo. The town of Kanya, as I have stated, stands on a hill, much higher by several hundred feet than the surrounding country. There are seven stores kept by colonial traders, who did, before the Transvaal rebellion, a good trade with the natives in corn, cattle, feathers, ivory, skins, karosses, and other native produce, but which have been almost destroyed through the Boer disturbances. The chief Gaseitsive is a quiet and peaceful man, and his son Bathoen is also well-disposed. All the men dress in European clothes, and the women are taking to them. It is one of the most difficult things to change the habits and customs of a people, but in my time great strides have been made in this direction up even to the Zambese. The large station at Mashonen, eighteen miles to the west of Kanya, is now occupied by this chief’s people, since Montsioa left to live on his own ground at Sehuba. The country between Kanya and Masepa station is very picturesque, lovely valleys, some well cultivated; many of the hills that surround them are clothed in lovely vegetation—the euphorbia, wild fig, and other subtropical plants; creepers of every variety climbing up between the large masses of sandstone rocks that stand out in grotesque forms, piled one upon another, add much to the beauty of the landscape. Such charming scenery could not be passed over in haste, particularly when surveying the country, which, detained me from time to time many weeks in treking through.The different streams that drain this part rise to the west in the Kalahara desert and fall into the Sand, Tuns, and Coloben branches of the Notuane river. The climate is splendid, so far as perpetual sunshine for eight months of the year goes; the summer from December to April being the rainy season, when severe thunderstorms and a downpour of rain are almost of daily occurrence; but with such a long drought vegetation does not seem to suffer.The natives are most friendly, bringing milk, green mealies, sugar-cane, pumpkins, anything they possess, to the waggon, in exchange for beads, tobacco, or such trifles as they might require.At one of my outspans, close to the highest range of hills between Masepa and Coloben, I formed my camp under some fine trees, as it was my intention to ascend the highest hill, to take observations with my servant, the next day. During the night several wolves visited us; the smell of the fresh meat in the waggons brought them nearer than was prudent, for we shot two very large ones in the early part of the night. Their skins are very useful for many purposes. This occurred when few white men visited Africa; consequently, lions, wolves, and other animals were seen and heard daily, and therefore necessary precautions had to be taken to guard against any attack upon my oxen. In the early morning of the following day I saddled-up my horse, and with my rifle started for the hills. It is always a practice in such a country never to be without your rifle, for it is impossible to say when you may require to make use of it. Finding the hill much too steep to ride up, I led the horse along a winding path between bushes and trees, and reached the top, which was level and open. The view from this point repaid me for the trouble of ascending. The lofty and well-wooded hills in the immediate vicinity, the distant mountains with their rugged outlines, clothed in purple mist, with the rich valleys beneath, was a landscape worth looking at. The clear atmosphere brought out all the inequalities and projecting rocks of quaint forms into prominence. I was not, however, allowed to remain long in this peaceful solitude before I became aware I had invaded Mr Baboon’s stronghold and look-out station. Making a more minute survey of my surroundings, I observed that many of the trees and bushes concealed one or more of these monkeys, and others perched upon rocks not far off intently watching my movements. Not a sound escaped them; I believe the presence of my horse had much to do with keeping them quiet, for horses then were never seen in those parts. If I had been alone some of the old ones might have given me trouble; many of them appeared to be nearly my own size. To see what effect a shot would have, I fired one chamber of my revolver. Then the music commenced—barks, screams, half-human grunts sounded from a hundred different places as they scrambled from branch to branch to gain cover amongst the rocks and small caves in the side of the hill, which, in days long since passed away, were occupied by Bushmen. The height of this elevation was 4560 feet above sea-level.On arriving at my waggon I found one of my oxen stuck in a mud-hole, and with difficulty released him and proceeded on to Masepa, the petty chief Pelan’s station, where the Kaffir women brought me thick milk, which is very good and acceptable in this hot weather. There are many Kaffir stations along these roads of the Bakwana and Bangweketse tribe of Bechuana, who live under their respective chiefs. From my earliest visits in this country, up to the present time, the Boers have been a murdering and unprincipled people, over all these parts, stealing the native cattle and encroaching on the land. In 1852 Dr Livingstone, in a letter to Sir John Pakington, states,—“Frequent attempts were made by the Transvaal Boers to induce the chief Sechele to prevent the English from passing him in their way north; and, because he refused to comply with this policy, a commando was sent against him by Mr Pretorius, which, on the 30th September last, attacked and destroyed his town, killing sixty of his people, and carried off upwards of 200 women and children. I can declare most positively that, except in the matter of refusing to throw obstacles in the way of English traders, Sechele never offended the Boers by either word or deed. They wished to divert the trade into their own hands. They also plundered my house of property which would cost in England at least 335 pounds. They smashed all the bottles containing medicine, and tore all the books of my library, scattering the leaves to the winds; and besides my personal property, they carried off or destroyed a large amount of property belonging to English gentlemen and traders. Of the women and children captured, many of the former will escape, but the latter are reduced to hopeless slavery. They are sold and bought as slaves; and I have myself seen and conversed with such taken from other tribes, and living as slaves in the houses of the Boers. One of Sechele’s children is amongst the number captured, and the Boer who owns him can, if necessary, be pointed out.” The above statement is perfectly true in every particular. This murderous attack on Sechele and his people took place at Monope, and the old men at the station took me up into one of the stone hills close to the town, and showed me the small cave, about ten feet square, in the side of the hill, where Sechele and his wife took refuge with several guns and ammunition, and were pursued by the Boers, who kept up a constant fire into the cave, whilst Sechele and his wife, protected by the projecting rock, kept them off, Sechele firing, whilst his wife loaded the pieces. And the Kaffirs called my attention to the bullet-marks on the opposite rocks, where portions of the bullets still remained. Finding that Sechele shot a Boer whenever he showed himself, killing five, they withdrew, and Sechele and his wife came out. After this affair Sechele went a few miles north with his people, and settled at Coloben, and then on to his present station, Molapololo. There is no denying the fact that the Boers, from the time they crossed the Vaal river into Transvaal, have been a greater curse to the country, wherever they have set foot, than Moselekatze ever was when he marched north from Zululand. Some think they are excellent pioneers in a new country. They advance into native territories, killing the people by thousands, enslaving women and children, robbing them of all their lands and cattle, and occupying their country, with no ulterior benefit to themselves or others, but merely as a field for further cruelties and spoliation of native races, so that the country may be cleared of them, but not for civilisation or improving the country, because they leave a dark spot wherever they settle from the ruthless cruelties they perpetrate upon unoffending and innocent people. Are they then good pioneers? All the sophistry in the world cannot make it right. To murder, enslave, and rob innocent human beings, living on their own lands, who have done no harm, and have as much right to live and enjoy their own as any other people, black or white, that they should be so ruthlessly treated by men who profess Christianity and to be a God-fearing people, is an anomaly, and cannot be tolerated by a just and upright people like the British nation. And yet these atrocities are at the present moment being carried on in Bechuanaland by the Boers of the Transvaal and Orange Free State and other scum of European nationality, who have lost all sense of honour and justice, for the purpose of gaining a footing in the country; and we allow them to commit these lawless and criminal acts unchecked. They do not even civilise or improve the country they take. Look at the Transvaal; for forty years the Boers have had possession of it. What is it now? No more civilised than when they entered it, but the contrary. The Boers are more demoralised, as we know, who know them. Their acts alone are a sufficient answer to this question, and South Africa will not advance in prosperity and wealth until the Boer element is brought to a sense of justice; and that will never be while the Boers hold an independent position in the Transvaal.The population of the Bechuanas in Gaseitsive’s territory, including those under the chief Kuanette at Monope and Pelan at Masepa, does not exceed 35,000, exclusive of Bushmen; and against this the entire white population of the Transvaal at the present time does not exceed 40,000, including English and other nationalities. Then why should this handful of men be allowed to keep all South Africa in a perpetual state of disquietude, to the immense injury of the trade of the country? The gold re-discoveries, however, will settle this question, and that within the next year or two. The bulk of the most intelligent and influential Boers are determined to be annexed, and the hoisting of the British flag is only delayed by the savage, ignorant “Doppers,” with whom the diggers will make short work whenever they think fit to do so. The population now cannot be less than 50,000, of whom 20,000 are Europeans, and all fighting-men, whilst the Boers cannot muster more than 10,000, of whom the half are on our side.

The next and third Bechuana chief from the Cape Colony is the chief Gaseitsive, whose territory is more extensive than Montsioa’s; his southern boundary joins on to the latter, along the entire length from east to west. His chief town is at Kanya, sixty-five miles north of Sehuba, Montsioa’s town, situated on the summit of a lofty hill, the highest of any in this part of the country. The chief lives in a well-built house, furnished similar to any European residence. The hill where the main part of the town is built, slopes gradually down towards the north, on the east and west, more suddenly on the south by a cliff, 180 feet in height, composed of rounded and well water-worn stones, from the size of a marble to an ostrich egg, forming a hard conglomerate, with dark brown gritty sand, and it has every appearance of having once been a shore-line, and the back of an ancient harbour. At the bottom of this cliff the lower town is built, and is the mission station and church of the London Missionary Society, under the Rev. Mr Good. This lower town stands at the upper end of an extensive level opening, surrounded on three sides by hills, open to the south, where a small sluit drains the land upon which the lower town stands. The principal road from the colony after passing through Montsioa’s territory at Maceby’s station, runs due north to Kanya; the distance from the former is sixty miles, from Molapo river; half-way, at Vaalpan Fits, is the division between Montsioa and Gaseitsive. The country is thickly wooded and very pretty; all to the west of this road is part of the Kalahara desert belonging to these two chiefs. A road from Melemo’s station on the Molapo joins this, and at Vaalpan Pits a road branches off to the left, through the desert, to Lake N’gami, a distance of 420 miles to the chief Molemo at Leshubatabe’s station, east of that lake.

The principal watering-places along this road are Moshanen Kraal, thirty miles; Seletse, forty miles; Tans, twenty miles; Kaikai, 110, with small pits between; Makapolo Pans, 108, also small pans along the road; Goose Vlei, sixty-four miles beyond, and to Molemo’s station, near the lake, forty-eight. The country through which this road passes varies in character and scenery; the lower portion passes between isolated and picturesque hills, well-wooded to their summits with a variety of subtropical vegetation. Mokotontuane Hills are particularly noticeable for their beautiful flora. The plains and valleys have many Kaffir stations with their petty chiefs, under paramount chief Gaseitsive, who belongs to the Bangwaketse tribe of the Bechuana family. They are Moshanen, Montsioa’s old station; Seletse, Gabatane, Ses, Khokhochu, Lutlue, Tans, and several others, as also Bushman kraals where large herds of cattle are kept.

The people are quiet and inoffensive, living the same kind of life their forefathers lived, thousands of years before. The men have their skin mantle, the women also, with their short kilt, beads of ostrich eggs, also brass wire from Kanya, for feathers, karosses, skins, and other native produce.

The climate is almost perfect; no frosts in winter, which is the dry season, as rain rarely falls between April and October. Lions, wolves, leopards, and a host of the cat tribe, some of which are beautifully marked and make handsome karosses, which fetch a good price, are numerous over the whole of this part.

The main transport road, already described, from Maceby station on the Molapo, in Montsioa’s territory, to Kanya, is the only road now open from the Cape Colony to the interior, for carrying on the colonial trade with the native tribes beyond, as now settled by the late Transvaal Convention. All the others passing northwards go through that Republic and are subject to a heavy tax, consequently they are closed to us. Previous to the Transvaal rebellion, we had six different roads for conveying merchandise from our two colonies, Natal and Cape Colony, free from taxation. The interior trade from Natal is entirely closed against English traders, in consequence of the distance being too great to go round to the only one now left to us. The other main roads to Kanya, besides the one already described, pass through the Transvaal and Zeerust, which has been given to the Boer Government, since Keats’ award has been so unwisely abandoned and their north-west border extended, the result of ignorance on the part of the British Government as to the importance of keeping in our own hands so valuable a part of Montsioa’s territory, for the purpose of greater freedom of communication with that vast native region beyond. The transport over them would have been much easier and cheaper, in consequence of good roads and an unlimited supply of water. The only road we have willingly confined ourselves to, from Maceby’s to Kanya, has only one permanent water, at Vaal-pan-pits, for sixty miles with a heavy road, which for heavy transport-waggons is a loss to the trader. The roads which the colonial trade passed over, now closed to us by the extension of the Transvaal boundary beyond Keats’ award, which should have been maintained, are as follows: From Kimberley to Taungs. Melema on the Molapo to Rinokano, and the river road along the Limpopo or from Rinokano to Kanya by two routes; another isviaMaamousa; a fourth passing along the open plains by the two salt-pans, and the other two, one to the north of Bloemhof, and from that town by the Vaal river roads—all concentrating on Molapo and Molmane, then through the new land given to the Transvaal by the Convention. This is the position in which the British Government has placed the two colonies with regard to the interior trade.

The country through which these roads pass to Kanya is very lovely, and superior to any part of the colony. One of these passes through a drift of the Molmane river, a branch of the Klein Marico, passing on past John Mentji’s farm; a small lake in front of the house, surrounded with beautiful trees, and a pretty fountain at the back, with rising ground in the distance, is a spot to be remembered. Beyond is the fountain at Ludic’s, passing between hills clothed in every variety of foliage, on to Kanya; the distance is eighty miles. The other principal transport road to Kanya from Rinokano passes through a more lovely country than the one just described, the rich alluvial soil of the valleys, well watered by fine springs, which are small branches of the Notuane river, fine grass-lands studded with beautiful groups of trees and bush. On every side of the road, well-wooded, lofty, and picturesque hills—they may be termed mountains; others in the distance rearing their lofty heads, visible between the openings of those near. The subtropical plants, scarlet creepers climbing up and between the isolated rocks, piled one upon another, complete a landscape seldom to be surpassed for the beauty of its scenery.

The distance to Kanya is fifty-four miles, ten miles from Rinokano, which is a large Kaffir station. When I first paid it a visit, an old chief Moelo lived there. It is a mission station of the German Mission Society, in charge of the Rev. Mr Jansen, who is noted for his hospitality to travellers; he has a beautiful garden well stocked with fruit, also orange and lemon trees. Monata, ten miles north of Rinokano, is the old station of the chief Marshelale, who, owing to the continual inroads of the Boers from the Transvaal stealing his cattle, removed to the other side of the mountains beyond Kanya, where Pelan lived. This old station has now been occupied by several Bastard families, who have built quite a town of good brick houses situated on a branch of the Notuane river, which runs through a pass in the mountain of great beauty. Above the poort near the springs are many Korannas; some spoke very good English, and gave me much information respecting the locality. Six miles beyond, the road takes a short turn to the left, passing between high hills for one mile, the road being very steep and stony, and a mile beyond you arrive at that singular and isolated hill called Moselekatze Kop, a lofty conical hill; the height from its base to summit is 275 feet, by my aneroid barometer. This is composed of hard sandstone and shale; great quantities of ironstone, and conglomerate in large boulders, cover the ground at the base, which appears to have fallen from the top; the rocks round about are blue and white metamorphic.

As my intention was to scale it the next day, I outspanned under some fine trees close to the hill for the night, that I might be on the topmost point at sunrise, which at that season of the year (April) is about five o’clock; and as the sun rose above the cloudless horizon, with the pure clear atmosphere, it threw out all the distant mountain peaks in bold and well-defined outlines, although some of them were more than sixty miles distant; and as the sun rose, casting the deep shadows of the surrounding hills, and bringing out the rich green foliage of the trees and shrubs, it was a sight seldom to be seen. There are many cattle and vieh-posts for sheep and goats in these valleys, that belong to the people at Kanya, and other kraals, in the country belonging to the chief Gaseitsive.

Leaving Moselekatze Kop, going to Kanya, the road turns west, then north-west for thirteen miles, to a deep and stony watercourse, that comes down from the mountain two miles distant, which is a branch of the river Tans and Sand, into the Notuane. Many picturesque sandstone hills of every variety of form, covered with rich subtropical vegetation to their summits, with gigantic rocks peeping out between the bushes, give a peculiar feature to the landscape. Some of the finest tree-aloes grow here to perfection, the stems measuring twenty-five feet, and in girth six feet, their long light-green pointed leaves measuring four feet, and when in bloom their many crimson flowers are beautiful objects. The country being so lovely, I remained at this stony river three days to sketch and prospect, and was rewarded by finding in the bed of the river, mixed up in the large stones, ancient flint implements, that had been washed down in heavy rains. Several of them were so jambed in between large boulders of many tons weight, that I had to get a crowbar to remove them. Some of these boulders measured over four feet in diameter, showing the force of the stream and quantity of water that falls in these thunderstorms.

The temperature at night in my waggon in April was 68 degrees, and at mid-day 84 degrees. No large game has been seen, although the natives tell me there are koodoos, blue wildebeest or gnu, hartebeest and springbok.

From this river the road winds through these beautiful valleys, passing a remarkable granite rock standing alone in the veldt, round like a Kaffir hut, twenty feet in height, continuing on through the same kind of country to Kanya. Another, in fact two other roads, leave Rinokano, and go direct to Molapololo, the chief Sechele’s station; one round by Ramoocha Khotla, named after an old chief, passing through Base Poort, a lovely spot, plenty of baboons and beautiful birds; we cross the Sand river four times, very stony, on to Sneyman’s farms, past the Spitz Kop, another remarkable hill, over an open flat, park-like, with beautiful clumps of trees, to Dwasberg, passing on the right Kolobekatze mountain, leaving on the left the Quagga and Kopani hills, and on to Ramoocha, where the chief Makose has a large station. These people belong to the Bamankitse tribe of the Bechuana family. It is a mission in charge of the Rev. Mr Schonenburg, of the Berlin Society. From this kraal the road divides, one going to Chene Chene, where the chief Maklapan lives on the bank of the Notuane, and then to Motsode, taking the Limpopo river road to Ba-Mangwato. The second goes direct to Molapololo; the third to the same town, through the Kaffir station Monope, under the chief Kuanette, of the Bahurutsi-Bamangane of the Bakatla tribe of the Bechuana family. Monope is also a Berlin Mission station, in charge of the Rev. Mr Tanson.

The large Kaffir station of Monope is well situated on elevated ground, a gentle rise from the river Coloben, a branch of the Notuane, being protected by several large stone koptjies. The people are very quiet and civil, cultivate extensively Kaffir corn, and make karosses, which they sell to traders. When I first knew the people, twenty years ago, there was not a man or woman that dressed in European clothes; at the present time most of them are getting into the way of dressing. The men wear clothes, and will have the best.

The Notuane river has many tributaries, that take their rise in this territory and at Rinokano, which drains the whole of this district, and falls into the Limpopo. The town of Kanya, as I have stated, stands on a hill, much higher by several hundred feet than the surrounding country. There are seven stores kept by colonial traders, who did, before the Transvaal rebellion, a good trade with the natives in corn, cattle, feathers, ivory, skins, karosses, and other native produce, but which have been almost destroyed through the Boer disturbances. The chief Gaseitsive is a quiet and peaceful man, and his son Bathoen is also well-disposed. All the men dress in European clothes, and the women are taking to them. It is one of the most difficult things to change the habits and customs of a people, but in my time great strides have been made in this direction up even to the Zambese. The large station at Mashonen, eighteen miles to the west of Kanya, is now occupied by this chief’s people, since Montsioa left to live on his own ground at Sehuba. The country between Kanya and Masepa station is very picturesque, lovely valleys, some well cultivated; many of the hills that surround them are clothed in lovely vegetation—the euphorbia, wild fig, and other subtropical plants; creepers of every variety climbing up between the large masses of sandstone rocks that stand out in grotesque forms, piled one upon another, add much to the beauty of the landscape. Such charming scenery could not be passed over in haste, particularly when surveying the country, which, detained me from time to time many weeks in treking through.

The different streams that drain this part rise to the west in the Kalahara desert and fall into the Sand, Tuns, and Coloben branches of the Notuane river. The climate is splendid, so far as perpetual sunshine for eight months of the year goes; the summer from December to April being the rainy season, when severe thunderstorms and a downpour of rain are almost of daily occurrence; but with such a long drought vegetation does not seem to suffer.

The natives are most friendly, bringing milk, green mealies, sugar-cane, pumpkins, anything they possess, to the waggon, in exchange for beads, tobacco, or such trifles as they might require.

At one of my outspans, close to the highest range of hills between Masepa and Coloben, I formed my camp under some fine trees, as it was my intention to ascend the highest hill, to take observations with my servant, the next day. During the night several wolves visited us; the smell of the fresh meat in the waggons brought them nearer than was prudent, for we shot two very large ones in the early part of the night. Their skins are very useful for many purposes. This occurred when few white men visited Africa; consequently, lions, wolves, and other animals were seen and heard daily, and therefore necessary precautions had to be taken to guard against any attack upon my oxen. In the early morning of the following day I saddled-up my horse, and with my rifle started for the hills. It is always a practice in such a country never to be without your rifle, for it is impossible to say when you may require to make use of it. Finding the hill much too steep to ride up, I led the horse along a winding path between bushes and trees, and reached the top, which was level and open. The view from this point repaid me for the trouble of ascending. The lofty and well-wooded hills in the immediate vicinity, the distant mountains with their rugged outlines, clothed in purple mist, with the rich valleys beneath, was a landscape worth looking at. The clear atmosphere brought out all the inequalities and projecting rocks of quaint forms into prominence. I was not, however, allowed to remain long in this peaceful solitude before I became aware I had invaded Mr Baboon’s stronghold and look-out station. Making a more minute survey of my surroundings, I observed that many of the trees and bushes concealed one or more of these monkeys, and others perched upon rocks not far off intently watching my movements. Not a sound escaped them; I believe the presence of my horse had much to do with keeping them quiet, for horses then were never seen in those parts. If I had been alone some of the old ones might have given me trouble; many of them appeared to be nearly my own size. To see what effect a shot would have, I fired one chamber of my revolver. Then the music commenced—barks, screams, half-human grunts sounded from a hundred different places as they scrambled from branch to branch to gain cover amongst the rocks and small caves in the side of the hill, which, in days long since passed away, were occupied by Bushmen. The height of this elevation was 4560 feet above sea-level.

On arriving at my waggon I found one of my oxen stuck in a mud-hole, and with difficulty released him and proceeded on to Masepa, the petty chief Pelan’s station, where the Kaffir women brought me thick milk, which is very good and acceptable in this hot weather. There are many Kaffir stations along these roads of the Bakwana and Bangweketse tribe of Bechuana, who live under their respective chiefs. From my earliest visits in this country, up to the present time, the Boers have been a murdering and unprincipled people, over all these parts, stealing the native cattle and encroaching on the land. In 1852 Dr Livingstone, in a letter to Sir John Pakington, states,—“Frequent attempts were made by the Transvaal Boers to induce the chief Sechele to prevent the English from passing him in their way north; and, because he refused to comply with this policy, a commando was sent against him by Mr Pretorius, which, on the 30th September last, attacked and destroyed his town, killing sixty of his people, and carried off upwards of 200 women and children. I can declare most positively that, except in the matter of refusing to throw obstacles in the way of English traders, Sechele never offended the Boers by either word or deed. They wished to divert the trade into their own hands. They also plundered my house of property which would cost in England at least 335 pounds. They smashed all the bottles containing medicine, and tore all the books of my library, scattering the leaves to the winds; and besides my personal property, they carried off or destroyed a large amount of property belonging to English gentlemen and traders. Of the women and children captured, many of the former will escape, but the latter are reduced to hopeless slavery. They are sold and bought as slaves; and I have myself seen and conversed with such taken from other tribes, and living as slaves in the houses of the Boers. One of Sechele’s children is amongst the number captured, and the Boer who owns him can, if necessary, be pointed out.” The above statement is perfectly true in every particular. This murderous attack on Sechele and his people took place at Monope, and the old men at the station took me up into one of the stone hills close to the town, and showed me the small cave, about ten feet square, in the side of the hill, where Sechele and his wife took refuge with several guns and ammunition, and were pursued by the Boers, who kept up a constant fire into the cave, whilst Sechele and his wife, protected by the projecting rock, kept them off, Sechele firing, whilst his wife loaded the pieces. And the Kaffirs called my attention to the bullet-marks on the opposite rocks, where portions of the bullets still remained. Finding that Sechele shot a Boer whenever he showed himself, killing five, they withdrew, and Sechele and his wife came out. After this affair Sechele went a few miles north with his people, and settled at Coloben, and then on to his present station, Molapololo. There is no denying the fact that the Boers, from the time they crossed the Vaal river into Transvaal, have been a greater curse to the country, wherever they have set foot, than Moselekatze ever was when he marched north from Zululand. Some think they are excellent pioneers in a new country. They advance into native territories, killing the people by thousands, enslaving women and children, robbing them of all their lands and cattle, and occupying their country, with no ulterior benefit to themselves or others, but merely as a field for further cruelties and spoliation of native races, so that the country may be cleared of them, but not for civilisation or improving the country, because they leave a dark spot wherever they settle from the ruthless cruelties they perpetrate upon unoffending and innocent people. Are they then good pioneers? All the sophistry in the world cannot make it right. To murder, enslave, and rob innocent human beings, living on their own lands, who have done no harm, and have as much right to live and enjoy their own as any other people, black or white, that they should be so ruthlessly treated by men who profess Christianity and to be a God-fearing people, is an anomaly, and cannot be tolerated by a just and upright people like the British nation. And yet these atrocities are at the present moment being carried on in Bechuanaland by the Boers of the Transvaal and Orange Free State and other scum of European nationality, who have lost all sense of honour and justice, for the purpose of gaining a footing in the country; and we allow them to commit these lawless and criminal acts unchecked. They do not even civilise or improve the country they take. Look at the Transvaal; for forty years the Boers have had possession of it. What is it now? No more civilised than when they entered it, but the contrary. The Boers are more demoralised, as we know, who know them. Their acts alone are a sufficient answer to this question, and South Africa will not advance in prosperity and wealth until the Boer element is brought to a sense of justice; and that will never be while the Boers hold an independent position in the Transvaal.

The population of the Bechuanas in Gaseitsive’s territory, including those under the chief Kuanette at Monope and Pelan at Masepa, does not exceed 35,000, exclusive of Bushmen; and against this the entire white population of the Transvaal at the present time does not exceed 40,000, including English and other nationalities. Then why should this handful of men be allowed to keep all South Africa in a perpetual state of disquietude, to the immense injury of the trade of the country? The gold re-discoveries, however, will settle this question, and that within the next year or two. The bulk of the most intelligent and influential Boers are determined to be annexed, and the hoisting of the British flag is only delayed by the savage, ignorant “Doppers,” with whom the diggers will make short work whenever they think fit to do so. The population now cannot be less than 50,000, of whom 20,000 are Europeans, and all fighting-men, whilst the Boers cannot muster more than 10,000, of whom the half are on our side.

Chapter Nine.The chief Sechele of the Bakwana tribe of the Bechuana family.On entering this chief’s territory from the south, that is from Kanya and Masepa, the country is undulating and densely wooded with trees and bush, the road stony and uneven. Approaching Molapololo, Sechele’s chief town, a long range of lofty hills comes in view, and as you near them a bold outline presenting many perpendicular and lofty cliffs, which gain in magnitude as you advance along the road with your waggon, passing between many Kaffir gardens. This range reminded me very forcibly of the Devonshire coast-line at Bolthead, and requires a short description to make more clear the general outline, as in no other region I have visited is there so singular a mountain, and one that conveys so plainly to the mind the history of remote times, and which appears so little changed from what it was at that period.On leaving the low and level country to enter Molapololo, the entrance is in a break of these hills, which rise from their base several hundred feet. In this opening is the remains of a considerable river. On passing through this entrance, which is about 250 yards wide, we come into an open space, surrounded by lofty hills, with an opening on the west side where this ancient river enters from the Kalahara desert, passing through this open space and through the entrance just described. On the east side of this open space is another entrance, flanked with lofty and almost perpendicular cliffs. The open space itself is about half a mile both ways, of an irregular shape, and has every appearance of being at one time a splendid harbour, with two entrances, surrounded by lofty hills, leaving the opening on the west side, where the once ancient river passed in between a narrow opening of light sandstone rocks. The soil of this open space is clear light sand, and is now occupied by several hundred native huts, and is also the residence of the missionary, the Rev. Mr Price, of the London Missionary Society, and also traders who have six stores. The outer face of the range of hills above-named that faces the south, present a bold and perpendicular front many hundred feet in height, half-way down; then it slopes at an angle of fifty-five to the foot, which is the accumulation of soil fallen from the upper cliffs; at the base a level sandy space of some hundred feet, clear of bush, similar to our sea-coast sands; and beyond for thirty miles the country is almost level, but thickly wooded. The principal formation of these hills is sandstone, the stratification is almost horizontal, but dips towards the north. The entrance on the eastern side is most interesting, and showing the action of the sea on the outer face of the lofty cliffs, which were exposed to its force. Half-way up one of the faces, 400 feet above the base, is a large cave extending some distance into the hill; the entrance is shaped like the portal of a castle, with perpendicular sides fifty feet wide and seventy feet in height, the rock round and smooth on both sides of the entrance. The interior has several chambers, similar in form to many caverns along the rocky shores in various parts of the world formed by the action of the waves. The land-face of this ancient harbour, the hill, rises 400 feet at an angle of 30 degrees. On the summit is another extensive level space, surrounded on the west and east by lofty rocks; the north is open to the level country beyond. On this open ground the main portion of the town of Molapololo is situated, and the residence of the chief Sechele, who has two well-built houses furnished after European fashion: an entrance-hall, fitted up with weapons of war, a dining and drawing-room, bedrooms and offices, sideboards, tables, chairs, with the usual glasses, decanters, silver stands, and such things as are required in a dining-room. The drawing-room has sofas and lounging-chairs, pictures, and everything nice—quite as comfortable as any house I have ever been in in South Africa, except in the principal towns in the colony. Sechele dresses well in English clothes, and his eldest son, Sebele, is also a well-dressed, handsome Kaffir. In 1866, when I first saw Sechele, he was not so particular in his dress, and most of his people had skin dresses; now many wear English clothes of the best quality. I am describing now the state of the natives in 1880, my last visit. But now since the Transvaal has been handed back to the Boers, trade has become paralysed and little or nothing is doing with the colony, as the Transvaal Boers have closed all the interior roads, and not only done so, but robbed and burnt traders’ waggons on their way to the interior, and driven the traders out of Montsioa’s and Monkuruan’s territories, and by their lawless acts have devastated the country.At my last visit but one, in 1877, I was received with great kindness, and as an old friend, by Sechele, who had on former occasions shown me great kindness and hospitality. I arrived at the town on Sunday afternoon, the 1st of September, after suffering much from want of water, and bad grass, since leaving Masepa. I called on the Rev. Mr J. Moffat, and then returned to my waggon, where I found Sechele’s brother, who had been sent by his chief, inviting me up to see him. On Monday morning I walked up to his house; he was sitting in his kotla with his councillors, then stood up, shook hands, took my arm without speaking, and walked to his house, a few steps from the kotla, as the enclosure is called where he and his councillors transact business, and took me into his drawing-room, seated me beside him on the sofa, still holding my hand, and ordered coffee. After giving him the particulars of my journey and the news of the country, he asked me to take dinner with him, and was pleased to see me. The table was laid similar to any white man’s—stewed beef and pumpkins, Kaffir beer, for which he is famous. Then had I to listen to all his troubles respecting the chief Linsey, who lives at Kgamanyane or Motsode, a station forty-two miles on the east of Molapololo, who had robbed him of all his cattle, and he was now a poor man. Having examined some papers he placed in my hands, I gave him an outline of my journey to the Matabeleland, and left him with a promise to see him on my return from up-country, to give the news. Such is the chief the British people look upon as a savage, and many out here call a wily old fox, because he is guarded in what he says and does; and can any one be surprised at his reticence when he has so many enemies in the Boers, who are watching for the first chance to make war on him and his people in their thirst for land and plunder? He has always been a good friend to the English, and recent events have taught him to be more than careful how he acts, seeing that no dependence can be placed on the English Government in relation to South African affairs; and such is the feeling of all the great chiefs from the Zambese down to the Cape Colony.A more romantic position for a native town could not well be chosen, and with little labour this natural fortress could be made impregnable. Many of the women wear petticoats, others still retain their skin dresses with bead and brass ornaments; and if left alone, without fear of Boer invasion, these are the most happy people in the world. The English people have hitherto been looked upon as friends and protectors, and as one of them I felt proud of my country. But since the Transvaal rebellion and its retrocession, an Englishman is ashamed to travel the country, to be subject to the taunts of the chiefs and people at the boasted honour of England. As I have stated, the people are the most happy of the human race—having no cares, no great division of classes, no extravagant fashions or forms to keep up. Luxuries of civilised life are unknown. They have their amusements, their nightly music and dances, the usual reed band already described; the women and children sing, and keep excellent time to the music; their clear and musical voices are pleasant to hear. The duty of the men is to attend to the oxen and cows, make karosses and clothes, hunt and work with their waggon and spans, fetching in the corn when ripe, bringing in wood for the fires; the boys look after the calves and goats. The women cook, bring water, hoe the gardens, and keep the birds away, and cut the corn when ripe—the labour being so divided, all goes on pleasantly. Sechele assists the missionary in his services at the church, which is a large building in the upper town. A few days previous to my visit a troop of young elephants marched up to the kraal from the Kalahara desert, having lost themselves—a very unusual occurrence, as they seldom come down so far south. The natives turned out and shot them, causing great excitement.In Sechele’s territory there are no other stations of any size; he has many smaller kraals in outlying districts, and several cattle-posts belonging to Kaffirs, some of whom are rich in stock. Four roads branch from Molapololo to the north, one passing through the desert to Lake N’gami, two direct to Ba-Mangwato through the Bush Veldt, a fourthviaMotsode, by continuing down the Notuane river; another, making a fifth, taking the river road by the Limpopo. The distance by the direct roads to Mongwato is 133 miles. In the dry season most of the transport-waggons take the river road, as water is always to be obtained. In the direct roads, many of the pans dry up; only at Selene Pan can water be procured, which is eighty-eight miles from Sechele’s, and forty-five from Mongwato. All that part of the country is very pretty; there are no hills, small koptjies are numerous. The trees and bush that grow in such park-like clumps, of great variety, add to its charm. The first year I travelled that road, eighteen years ago, the whole country swarmed with game, lions, and wolves, that is, at the time I speak of. The koodoo, with fine spiral horns from three to four feet in length, is a noble animal, the size of an ordinary ox, of a dun colour; their fine action when trotting or on the gallop, carrying their heads well up, is a fine sight. Hartebeests, roibok, with their beautiful fat sides and sleek coats. Well-marked with black stripes and white is the zebra, and when a troop of a hundred or more pass, it is a picture in itself. The ostrich was then plentiful, but it was difficult to run them down where the trees grow so thick, with bush between.I had a young and fleet horse who got quite used to hunting them; if he saw any, it was difficult to keep him in hand, and in a country of thick bush, wolf-holes, and ant-bears, it required great caution to prevent a tumble of both horse and man. The best plan I found was to stalk them between the bushes. I had a narrow escape with a lion on one of my ostrich hunts. When chasing them at full speed, I had to leap a low bush, no other opening being near; when half-way over, I saw a lion on the other side close under the branches, who raised himself as if he had been asleep—I partly passed over him. All I had time to see was his great head and mane as he jumped up, but I was off and away before he seemed to realise his position; at any rate he did not give chase, as I thought he might do. I think my horse had some inkling of the same, for he stretched out at his full speed. At night they became very troublesome, prowling round the waggon, keeping us awake to prevent them coming disagreeably close to the oxen and two horses fastened securely by reins to the trektow and waggon. Not being hunted, they were very bold. One night they killed a beautiful gemsbok within 100 yards of the waggon; the long straight horns I secured the next morning.Several Bushmen and their families kept with me during my stay in these parts, and were of great assistance in fetching water, cutting up the flesh to make biltong by drying it in the sun, and bringing in the game when shot. Some of the Bushmen and women were well-made, the old ones poor specimens of humanity. One girl was a perfect model, with rounded, well-formed limbs, and in good condition from living on the game the men killed with their bows and arrows. These people were quite black and small, a different type altogether from the Bushmen of the south. They were of the same family as those who occupy a great portion of the Kalahara desert, of which this forms the eastern part. Their language is also different; they are called Mesere Bushmen from their small size; that word signifies woman. They were perfectly naked, the weather never being cold, at this time the thermometer being 102 degrees in the shade. Their long rough grass huts being a broken bough or a few sticks stuck up and long grass thrown over.They have a very ingenious method of taking game by pitfalls. They dig four or five pits eight feet deep, ten long and four wide, fifty or sixty and sometimes 100 feet from each other, not in a straight line, but so placed that when they make a fence from one to the other it would form the letter V; at the point would be the pit, and no hedge, so that an animal wanting to pass through would walk down to the opening, and as the pit would be beautifully covered over with small sticks and grass, made a very inviting road to walk over. It was at one of these openings I had a very narrow escape of my life. Returning to my camp after a long day out after game, I came upon this fence, seeming an opening, and not having seen any before, I was going through, my dog in front, when I saw him disappear all at once, howling as dogs will howl when hurt or frightened. Dismounting, I pulled away some of the sticks to make the hole larger, and found one of these pits, with a large sharp-pointed pole stuck upright in the centre, and there was the dog at the bottom in a great state of mind; but how to get him out was a puzzle. As there were several long straight branches that formed the hedge, I got sufficient to put in that I might go down to take hold of the dog’s neck and lift him out, which took me an hour to perform. I took care to give these hedges a wide berth when I saw any afterwards. If a giraffe or elephant fell in he would be impaled and unable to move. Smaller game like my dog are caught alive. If I and my horse had gone in, he would have been impaled, and I should have been probably killed.The Bechuanas have another method of catching game by pitfalls—at least many years ago it was in use, where instead of securing one, they trapped hundreds at one time. In those extensive open plains, where tens of thousands of the antelope species roam, a favourable spot would be selected, and from eight to twelve large pits dug, ranged in a row fifteen feet apart, the earth taken out to the depth of five feet, and thrown up between them, forming a steep bank; at the bottom of this pit, it would be divided into smaller pits, two feet in depth, leaving a wall of earth between each; these would be square, and three in a row. The full size of the opening would be about thirty by twelve feet, placed longways. These would occupy a considerable space; at the extreme ends a thick bush hedge would prevent the game leaping over, and several hundred men placed in addition to prevent the animals going round. When all was prepared, men would drive the game by thousands towards the pits, and as they were pressed on by those behind they made for the pits to escape, where they would fall in, and having no foothold in the small square pits above-named, had to remain. Hundreds passing over them, also got fixed, until the pits were full.Then the grand slaughter commenced; as many as 1200 have been caught at one time. All the men, women, and children set to work; fires made, cooking begins, the skins taken off, and the meat cut up into lengths and hung up to dry in the sun for future use; not a marrow-bone is wasted, and it takes days to complete the work. This practice has been given over for years, but the pits still remain, some very perfect, which I measured. The Dutch name is “fungcut,” the Kaffir name “hopo.” The game driven into these pits would be composed of all kinds common to the country. The Bechuanas have guns and shoot the game, and have become very good shots.At Molapololo when the people get short of meat, a hunt is got up to go out for weeks to shoot game. Thirty or forty men, each with a gun, and pack-oxen, with several waggons, proceed to the Kalahara, where game is always to be had, and when they have procured enough meat or biltong to load up the oxen, they return home. Many women and children go in the waggons with them; it is a grand picnic. I was with them on one occasion when we had a lion-hunt, and we killed three out of seven, but four of the Bechuanas got fearfully wounded.I was outspanned about 100 miles on the north-west of Sechele’s, near a very pretty pan full of water, it being the rainy season in February, when one of these hunts came along, and outspanned a short distance from my waggon. The night previous we had been on the watch, as lions kept prowling about the waggons, but could not see any, the night being very dark. The next night the Kaffirs lost one of their largest pack-oxen, and as we saw by the spoor that there were several, the Kaffirs came to me, they knowing me very well, and asked if I would go with them and hunt up the lions, as we had several good dogs to drive them out of the bush. We mustered in all twenty-two guns—myself and my driver, a Hottentot, a capital shot, and twenty of the hunting party. Leaving the camp about two p.m., we took the lions’ spoor for nearly a mile into a small koppie with thick bush. The best part of the sport was to see the Kaffirs in their excitement, as if they had never seen a lion before; my fear was they might shoot me in their anxiety to have a shot and be the first to kill; every man had his place assigned him, but we could not draw the lions out of their cover; the dogs made a great noise, but would not go in. Finding they would not move, I placed three Kaffirs in a good position for them to keep firing with their rifles into the most likely part; this after a time brought four lions out, three others slunk away to the rear. Two had evidently been hit by the bullets, for they made for the nearest Kaffirs, whom they seized. Three were killed, having received seven to eight shots each; those that made their escape were young, only half-grown. This was a glorious day for the Kaffirs, to go home and tell their chief and friends of their bravery.All this part of the Kalahara belongs to and is in Gaseitsive’s territory, a country nearly 200 miles square; the northern part from Molapololo is a complete forest, fine trees, bush and open glades, and is his hunting-ground, where his people procure ostrich feathers, skins, and game, and also ivory. It was, when I first knew it, full of game, but since the natives have obtained rifles, they have greatly reduced it. The Notuane river and its branches drain the country belonging to Sechele and Gaseitsive, and is a tributary of the Limpopo. Fifty miles to the east of Molapololo is a large Kaffir station, Chene Chene, within the latter territory, under the chief Maklapan. A beautiful and picturesque hill stands close to it, which is visible at a great distance. The whole country is forest and full of game. The town is twenty-nine miles south from Motsodie. The river road to the interior from Molapololo passes through a very pretty and interesting part of the country, a long range of low thickly wooded hills on the left. Twenty-two miles on the road from Molapololo is Clokan, a small stream, another branch of the Notuane, where water seldom fails.On my last journey I found a trader, a Mr Okenshow, outspanned, who told me several lions had killed three blue wildebeest the previous night, and advised me not to let my oxen go out of my sight in the thick bush. This spot is famed for beautiful birds. After shooting some pheasants and four of these little beauties.I went on and passed another small stream call Koopong, thirteen miles, and then to Motsodie, the large Kaffir station under the chief Linsey, which is forty-two miles distant from Molapololo; he cautioned me to look after my horses and oxen, for the country was full of lions, and they were so bold they came close up to the town. They follow the game, more particularly quaggas or zebras, and, as there were plenty of them, also koodoos, hartebeest, and wildebeest.Previous to my first visit, a chief named Kgamanyane left his country on the east side of the Limpopo river, crossed over and settled at this station, with all his people, by permission of Sechele, and built a large station up among several hills, that it might be well protected in case of war with any tribe. At his death, his son Linsey ruled jointly with his uncle, and claimed the country as his own, and began stealing Sechele’s cattle and killing his herds; this led to war between them; several attacks were made by the latter on the town, but they were driven off, with a few killed, and so the war for a time was ended. This was the trouble Sechele told me of. The town is well selected for defence, the hills command every approach to it. Linsey lives in a brick house, and he and his people dress in European clothes. There is a mission station under the London Missionary Society. The people are very civil and ready to help strangers. Close up to the town are some very large ant-hills, fifteen feet in height, and forty feet in circumference at the base, terminating in a sharp point. They are the work of the small white ant that is so destructive to furniture and buildings; what motive they have for building them so lofty and pointed I have never been able to discover, because all their food supply is conveyed into it through little holes at the base. They are wonderful works for so small an insect. I remained here a week that I might explore the country, which is of sandstone formation, granite below, iron-conglomerate in large boulders on the slopes of the hills.There are two roads to the Limpopo river, one on each side of the Notuane, and another through the Bush Veldt, to the Great Marico river, with branch roads to Chene Chene, Ramoocha, and Rinokano stations, the two former ones being very bad and crossing many sluits. I took the one through the Bush Veldt. Leaving Motsodie in the afternoon, I crossed the river, and as night would be dark, outspanned early, to be prepared for any nocturnal visits from our feline friends. Fixing upon a pretty little open space, the only one I could find along the road, as it was one dense bush on both sides, I outspanned, and made everything ready, collecting plenty of wood to make big fires. Having made a fire to cook our evening meal, my three Kaffirs, or rather my Hottentot driver and two Kaffirs, were sitting smoking over it, and having seen all secure, were ready to turn into bed, when my driver, a first-class boy, called out there were lions coming on. He was the first to hear them—their noise is not to be mistaken when once heard. Having listened some time, the sounds, which on a still night can be heard a long distance off, appeared to be approaching. Our first care was to replenish the fire and pile up wood for two more, bring the foremost oxen close up to the waggon, making them fast to the wheels; the horse was placed between the waggon and fire, fastened to the front wheels, and more wood collected. During this time the lions appeared to be nearing us. After lighting the other two fires, I gave the boys a rifle each; myself and driver took up our position on the front waggon-box, that we might have a better view. The night being very still, not a sound was heard, except occasionally from our friends, as they evidently were very near. When about one o’clock in the morning the sounds ceased altogether; then we knew they had discovered us, and meant mischief. The last sounds appeared to be about 300 yards distant. This was an exciting time, for at any moment we might expect them in our midst, and to seize some of the oxen or the horse. All was still as death, except when the Kaffirs threw more wood on the fires. After waiting nearly an hour, the first indication of their presence was the restlessness of the oxen and horse, having scented them in the still air; but with all the glare of the fires they were not visible, the bush being so thick. We each took our rifles and stood between the oxen and the wood. The first warning sound was from my Hottentot driver, Dirk, who called out, “Look sharp,” and the next moment the report of his rifle. I was standing by his side, and saw the lion, not thirty paces from us, turn round, when I gave him a second bullet. He appeared to be severely wounded, as he only retreated a little distance, when he received a third from my driver, which brought him to the ground, and another in the head to make sure: a fine, full-grown lion. The other we never saw, he must have made his escape at the first shot. Early in the morning, to save time, I had him skinned, and inspanned to make my morning trek before breakfast. Two treks a day, morning and evening, nine miles each, if possible, but in this country you must be guided by water. The smell of the lion-skin at the back of the waggon made the oxen trek so fast that it was difficult to keep them under command. It is a very strange fact that calves born in the colony, grown into oxen, that have never seen or smelt a lion, should be so frightened at even the smell. Instinct, I suppose, tells them they are no friends. Those who have never seen a lion in his wild state can have no idea what a noble-looking animal he is. My driver Dirk was elated at having given the first shot, being the first lion he ever shot at. Every night in these parts we heard them at a distance. Wolves came every night. A few nights after, one came close to the waggon about midnight, not thirty yards away. I merely took my rifle as I sat up in my bed and shot him in the chest—one of those large-spotted brown sort. They smelt the raw meat at the back of the waggon. Wild dogs also this year came in large packs; they may be seen in one district for a short time, then they disappear for months. It is the same with the lions. The tiger (leopard) seldom leaves his haunts.The distance from Motsodie to the Great Marico river road is forty-seven miles, from thence to the junction of the Notuane river with the Limpopo, seventy-four miles. On the road from whence I crossed the Notuane river to the Great Marico road, the country is very dry and sandy, but the bush in places is very lovely. A great fire was raging on our right and coming down upon us with a strong wind; there was no means of escaping it, as high grass was in every direction, by trying to get past it; I therefore held still, set fire to the grass on our left of the road, which went blazing away at a great speed, that soon cleared a large extent of ground, where I brought my waggon into a safe position; if I had not done this, the waggon and all would have been destroyed.These grass-fires are very injurious to vegetation, killing the young trees and causing grass of a very coarse kind. This transport river road in dry weather is splendid, level and free from stones; some of the sluits are bad to cross. At the junction of the Great Marico river with the Limpopo is a drift through the latter, and a pinkish granite crops up on its banks. Wishing to have a swim, I took my towels from the waggon, and walked towards the river. On arriving at the bank, which is some fifty feet above the water, I saw on the sand beneath me a fine crocodile, on the opposite sand-bank, for the water was very low, three others basking in the sun below me, and two in the water, with a part of their heads and backs out. Those on the opposite side saw me first, for they moved towards the water slowly, and entered it and disappeared, without making the slightest ripple in the water; their bright colours made them look anything but ugly. I thought it advisable to defer my bath to some more favourable opportunity. At this point Sechele’s territory terminates and the chief Khama’s begins.At the junction of the Notuane and Limpopo there are two drifts. At the upper one I had to repair before I could take my waggon through, which caused me a day’s delay; I therefore fixed my camp under a very pretty clump of trees on the bank, where we were in the evening fully occupied in shooting wolves, this being a very noted place for them. Having shot a hartebeest in the morning, we employed the evening in making biltong of the flesh, and placed it on the branches of the trees to dry, as it was getting dark, for in this latitude (23 degrees 30 minutes), immediately under the Tropic of Capricorn, night sets in very soon after sundown. Several wolves came round the waggon; I thought at first in the dim light they were dogs, but soon discovered my mistake. We then made a plan to catch them, by placing two pieces of the raw meat about fifty yards from our camp, fastening them to a stump of a tree, just before the moon rose at ten o’clock, that we might see them when they came; then we all took up our position with our rifles, and waited. About eleven o’clock three large ones were seen coming from out of the wood towards the baits, which they soon found and seized, but the pieces were too firmly tied for them to take away, and then they began fighting over them, when two more made their appearance, creating quite a scene. It was then time to fire, and our four bullets settled two; the others before we could reload made off, although one was wounded as he made his escape. Bringing the two dead ones to the camp, we watched a short time longer, when another was seen coming on, and when in the act of trying to drag the meat away, we shot him also, and another soon afterwards, making four, and very large ones. The next day they were skinned, as they are very useful for many purposes, and the day after, I shot a crocodile as he seemed asleep on the bank. He measured eleven feet. Being only a short distance from the Limpopo river, which is broad and in places very deep, these reptiles seem to swarm; and its well-wooded banks give shelter to hundreds of monkeys, and also to many beautiful birds.At the junction of the Notuane river with the Limpopo, the altitude is 2880 feet at the drift, which is one of the main roads from Pretoria in the Transvaal to the trading-station Mongwato, and the chief Khama’s capital; the distance by road from the drift is seventy-three miles. The territory of Sechele, which also includes those portions now claimed by the petty chiefs Linsey at Motsodie, and Maklapan at Chene Chene, are valuable and well-wooded districts, with many native kraals; the people cultivate the land, use ploughs, and grow corn which supplies largely the inhabitants on the border of the Transvaal, and is taken in exchange for English goods through traders from the Cape Colony, and they also rear large herds of cattle. If a settled form of government is established, and Boer invasions put down, the country will soon become highly valuable as a market for British merchandise, as the natives are very industrious, and quite alive to the importance of trade; most of the beautiful karosses that find such a ready sale in the home markets are made by the Bechuana people. In all these chiefs’ territories they are excellent mechanics, manufacturing tools and utensils from native iron, and good forges are now being introduced. They have hitherto used for heating their metal, air-bags, connected by a tube, one placed under each arm, which they press to their side, which causes a blast sufficient to melt or heat the metal, which they hammer into form with stones. But this primitive mode is going out of use, and the ordinary bellows is being adopted. They purchase extensively of colonial traders, iron pots, kettles, saucepans, and tin utensils, as also every kind of wearing apparel, and if the country is protected from Boer marauders, the British merchant may look forward at no distant date to an extension of trade in these regions, over and above the present sales, up to several millions annually, as the great stride towards civilisation during my time has been most satisfactory. Twenty years ago, where one trader’s waggon went in, in 1880 there were fifty, which was stopped on the retrocession of the Transvaal to the Boers, when a collapse took place, and has continued through the murderous attacks and robbery of the Boers on the natives, but which, I trust, will now be put an end to by the British Government proclaiming a protectorate over all this extensive and valuable region.

On entering this chief’s territory from the south, that is from Kanya and Masepa, the country is undulating and densely wooded with trees and bush, the road stony and uneven. Approaching Molapololo, Sechele’s chief town, a long range of lofty hills comes in view, and as you near them a bold outline presenting many perpendicular and lofty cliffs, which gain in magnitude as you advance along the road with your waggon, passing between many Kaffir gardens. This range reminded me very forcibly of the Devonshire coast-line at Bolthead, and requires a short description to make more clear the general outline, as in no other region I have visited is there so singular a mountain, and one that conveys so plainly to the mind the history of remote times, and which appears so little changed from what it was at that period.

On leaving the low and level country to enter Molapololo, the entrance is in a break of these hills, which rise from their base several hundred feet. In this opening is the remains of a considerable river. On passing through this entrance, which is about 250 yards wide, we come into an open space, surrounded by lofty hills, with an opening on the west side where this ancient river enters from the Kalahara desert, passing through this open space and through the entrance just described. On the east side of this open space is another entrance, flanked with lofty and almost perpendicular cliffs. The open space itself is about half a mile both ways, of an irregular shape, and has every appearance of being at one time a splendid harbour, with two entrances, surrounded by lofty hills, leaving the opening on the west side, where the once ancient river passed in between a narrow opening of light sandstone rocks. The soil of this open space is clear light sand, and is now occupied by several hundred native huts, and is also the residence of the missionary, the Rev. Mr Price, of the London Missionary Society, and also traders who have six stores. The outer face of the range of hills above-named that faces the south, present a bold and perpendicular front many hundred feet in height, half-way down; then it slopes at an angle of fifty-five to the foot, which is the accumulation of soil fallen from the upper cliffs; at the base a level sandy space of some hundred feet, clear of bush, similar to our sea-coast sands; and beyond for thirty miles the country is almost level, but thickly wooded. The principal formation of these hills is sandstone, the stratification is almost horizontal, but dips towards the north. The entrance on the eastern side is most interesting, and showing the action of the sea on the outer face of the lofty cliffs, which were exposed to its force. Half-way up one of the faces, 400 feet above the base, is a large cave extending some distance into the hill; the entrance is shaped like the portal of a castle, with perpendicular sides fifty feet wide and seventy feet in height, the rock round and smooth on both sides of the entrance. The interior has several chambers, similar in form to many caverns along the rocky shores in various parts of the world formed by the action of the waves. The land-face of this ancient harbour, the hill, rises 400 feet at an angle of 30 degrees. On the summit is another extensive level space, surrounded on the west and east by lofty rocks; the north is open to the level country beyond. On this open ground the main portion of the town of Molapololo is situated, and the residence of the chief Sechele, who has two well-built houses furnished after European fashion: an entrance-hall, fitted up with weapons of war, a dining and drawing-room, bedrooms and offices, sideboards, tables, chairs, with the usual glasses, decanters, silver stands, and such things as are required in a dining-room. The drawing-room has sofas and lounging-chairs, pictures, and everything nice—quite as comfortable as any house I have ever been in in South Africa, except in the principal towns in the colony. Sechele dresses well in English clothes, and his eldest son, Sebele, is also a well-dressed, handsome Kaffir. In 1866, when I first saw Sechele, he was not so particular in his dress, and most of his people had skin dresses; now many wear English clothes of the best quality. I am describing now the state of the natives in 1880, my last visit. But now since the Transvaal has been handed back to the Boers, trade has become paralysed and little or nothing is doing with the colony, as the Transvaal Boers have closed all the interior roads, and not only done so, but robbed and burnt traders’ waggons on their way to the interior, and driven the traders out of Montsioa’s and Monkuruan’s territories, and by their lawless acts have devastated the country.

At my last visit but one, in 1877, I was received with great kindness, and as an old friend, by Sechele, who had on former occasions shown me great kindness and hospitality. I arrived at the town on Sunday afternoon, the 1st of September, after suffering much from want of water, and bad grass, since leaving Masepa. I called on the Rev. Mr J. Moffat, and then returned to my waggon, where I found Sechele’s brother, who had been sent by his chief, inviting me up to see him. On Monday morning I walked up to his house; he was sitting in his kotla with his councillors, then stood up, shook hands, took my arm without speaking, and walked to his house, a few steps from the kotla, as the enclosure is called where he and his councillors transact business, and took me into his drawing-room, seated me beside him on the sofa, still holding my hand, and ordered coffee. After giving him the particulars of my journey and the news of the country, he asked me to take dinner with him, and was pleased to see me. The table was laid similar to any white man’s—stewed beef and pumpkins, Kaffir beer, for which he is famous. Then had I to listen to all his troubles respecting the chief Linsey, who lives at Kgamanyane or Motsode, a station forty-two miles on the east of Molapololo, who had robbed him of all his cattle, and he was now a poor man. Having examined some papers he placed in my hands, I gave him an outline of my journey to the Matabeleland, and left him with a promise to see him on my return from up-country, to give the news. Such is the chief the British people look upon as a savage, and many out here call a wily old fox, because he is guarded in what he says and does; and can any one be surprised at his reticence when he has so many enemies in the Boers, who are watching for the first chance to make war on him and his people in their thirst for land and plunder? He has always been a good friend to the English, and recent events have taught him to be more than careful how he acts, seeing that no dependence can be placed on the English Government in relation to South African affairs; and such is the feeling of all the great chiefs from the Zambese down to the Cape Colony.

A more romantic position for a native town could not well be chosen, and with little labour this natural fortress could be made impregnable. Many of the women wear petticoats, others still retain their skin dresses with bead and brass ornaments; and if left alone, without fear of Boer invasion, these are the most happy people in the world. The English people have hitherto been looked upon as friends and protectors, and as one of them I felt proud of my country. But since the Transvaal rebellion and its retrocession, an Englishman is ashamed to travel the country, to be subject to the taunts of the chiefs and people at the boasted honour of England. As I have stated, the people are the most happy of the human race—having no cares, no great division of classes, no extravagant fashions or forms to keep up. Luxuries of civilised life are unknown. They have their amusements, their nightly music and dances, the usual reed band already described; the women and children sing, and keep excellent time to the music; their clear and musical voices are pleasant to hear. The duty of the men is to attend to the oxen and cows, make karosses and clothes, hunt and work with their waggon and spans, fetching in the corn when ripe, bringing in wood for the fires; the boys look after the calves and goats. The women cook, bring water, hoe the gardens, and keep the birds away, and cut the corn when ripe—the labour being so divided, all goes on pleasantly. Sechele assists the missionary in his services at the church, which is a large building in the upper town. A few days previous to my visit a troop of young elephants marched up to the kraal from the Kalahara desert, having lost themselves—a very unusual occurrence, as they seldom come down so far south. The natives turned out and shot them, causing great excitement.

In Sechele’s territory there are no other stations of any size; he has many smaller kraals in outlying districts, and several cattle-posts belonging to Kaffirs, some of whom are rich in stock. Four roads branch from Molapololo to the north, one passing through the desert to Lake N’gami, two direct to Ba-Mangwato through the Bush Veldt, a fourthviaMotsode, by continuing down the Notuane river; another, making a fifth, taking the river road by the Limpopo. The distance by the direct roads to Mongwato is 133 miles. In the dry season most of the transport-waggons take the river road, as water is always to be obtained. In the direct roads, many of the pans dry up; only at Selene Pan can water be procured, which is eighty-eight miles from Sechele’s, and forty-five from Mongwato. All that part of the country is very pretty; there are no hills, small koptjies are numerous. The trees and bush that grow in such park-like clumps, of great variety, add to its charm. The first year I travelled that road, eighteen years ago, the whole country swarmed with game, lions, and wolves, that is, at the time I speak of. The koodoo, with fine spiral horns from three to four feet in length, is a noble animal, the size of an ordinary ox, of a dun colour; their fine action when trotting or on the gallop, carrying their heads well up, is a fine sight. Hartebeests, roibok, with their beautiful fat sides and sleek coats. Well-marked with black stripes and white is the zebra, and when a troop of a hundred or more pass, it is a picture in itself. The ostrich was then plentiful, but it was difficult to run them down where the trees grow so thick, with bush between.

I had a young and fleet horse who got quite used to hunting them; if he saw any, it was difficult to keep him in hand, and in a country of thick bush, wolf-holes, and ant-bears, it required great caution to prevent a tumble of both horse and man. The best plan I found was to stalk them between the bushes. I had a narrow escape with a lion on one of my ostrich hunts. When chasing them at full speed, I had to leap a low bush, no other opening being near; when half-way over, I saw a lion on the other side close under the branches, who raised himself as if he had been asleep—I partly passed over him. All I had time to see was his great head and mane as he jumped up, but I was off and away before he seemed to realise his position; at any rate he did not give chase, as I thought he might do. I think my horse had some inkling of the same, for he stretched out at his full speed. At night they became very troublesome, prowling round the waggon, keeping us awake to prevent them coming disagreeably close to the oxen and two horses fastened securely by reins to the trektow and waggon. Not being hunted, they were very bold. One night they killed a beautiful gemsbok within 100 yards of the waggon; the long straight horns I secured the next morning.

Several Bushmen and their families kept with me during my stay in these parts, and were of great assistance in fetching water, cutting up the flesh to make biltong by drying it in the sun, and bringing in the game when shot. Some of the Bushmen and women were well-made, the old ones poor specimens of humanity. One girl was a perfect model, with rounded, well-formed limbs, and in good condition from living on the game the men killed with their bows and arrows. These people were quite black and small, a different type altogether from the Bushmen of the south. They were of the same family as those who occupy a great portion of the Kalahara desert, of which this forms the eastern part. Their language is also different; they are called Mesere Bushmen from their small size; that word signifies woman. They were perfectly naked, the weather never being cold, at this time the thermometer being 102 degrees in the shade. Their long rough grass huts being a broken bough or a few sticks stuck up and long grass thrown over.

They have a very ingenious method of taking game by pitfalls. They dig four or five pits eight feet deep, ten long and four wide, fifty or sixty and sometimes 100 feet from each other, not in a straight line, but so placed that when they make a fence from one to the other it would form the letter V; at the point would be the pit, and no hedge, so that an animal wanting to pass through would walk down to the opening, and as the pit would be beautifully covered over with small sticks and grass, made a very inviting road to walk over. It was at one of these openings I had a very narrow escape of my life. Returning to my camp after a long day out after game, I came upon this fence, seeming an opening, and not having seen any before, I was going through, my dog in front, when I saw him disappear all at once, howling as dogs will howl when hurt or frightened. Dismounting, I pulled away some of the sticks to make the hole larger, and found one of these pits, with a large sharp-pointed pole stuck upright in the centre, and there was the dog at the bottom in a great state of mind; but how to get him out was a puzzle. As there were several long straight branches that formed the hedge, I got sufficient to put in that I might go down to take hold of the dog’s neck and lift him out, which took me an hour to perform. I took care to give these hedges a wide berth when I saw any afterwards. If a giraffe or elephant fell in he would be impaled and unable to move. Smaller game like my dog are caught alive. If I and my horse had gone in, he would have been impaled, and I should have been probably killed.

The Bechuanas have another method of catching game by pitfalls—at least many years ago it was in use, where instead of securing one, they trapped hundreds at one time. In those extensive open plains, where tens of thousands of the antelope species roam, a favourable spot would be selected, and from eight to twelve large pits dug, ranged in a row fifteen feet apart, the earth taken out to the depth of five feet, and thrown up between them, forming a steep bank; at the bottom of this pit, it would be divided into smaller pits, two feet in depth, leaving a wall of earth between each; these would be square, and three in a row. The full size of the opening would be about thirty by twelve feet, placed longways. These would occupy a considerable space; at the extreme ends a thick bush hedge would prevent the game leaping over, and several hundred men placed in addition to prevent the animals going round. When all was prepared, men would drive the game by thousands towards the pits, and as they were pressed on by those behind they made for the pits to escape, where they would fall in, and having no foothold in the small square pits above-named, had to remain. Hundreds passing over them, also got fixed, until the pits were full.

Then the grand slaughter commenced; as many as 1200 have been caught at one time. All the men, women, and children set to work; fires made, cooking begins, the skins taken off, and the meat cut up into lengths and hung up to dry in the sun for future use; not a marrow-bone is wasted, and it takes days to complete the work. This practice has been given over for years, but the pits still remain, some very perfect, which I measured. The Dutch name is “fungcut,” the Kaffir name “hopo.” The game driven into these pits would be composed of all kinds common to the country. The Bechuanas have guns and shoot the game, and have become very good shots.

At Molapololo when the people get short of meat, a hunt is got up to go out for weeks to shoot game. Thirty or forty men, each with a gun, and pack-oxen, with several waggons, proceed to the Kalahara, where game is always to be had, and when they have procured enough meat or biltong to load up the oxen, they return home. Many women and children go in the waggons with them; it is a grand picnic. I was with them on one occasion when we had a lion-hunt, and we killed three out of seven, but four of the Bechuanas got fearfully wounded.

I was outspanned about 100 miles on the north-west of Sechele’s, near a very pretty pan full of water, it being the rainy season in February, when one of these hunts came along, and outspanned a short distance from my waggon. The night previous we had been on the watch, as lions kept prowling about the waggons, but could not see any, the night being very dark. The next night the Kaffirs lost one of their largest pack-oxen, and as we saw by the spoor that there were several, the Kaffirs came to me, they knowing me very well, and asked if I would go with them and hunt up the lions, as we had several good dogs to drive them out of the bush. We mustered in all twenty-two guns—myself and my driver, a Hottentot, a capital shot, and twenty of the hunting party. Leaving the camp about two p.m., we took the lions’ spoor for nearly a mile into a small koppie with thick bush. The best part of the sport was to see the Kaffirs in their excitement, as if they had never seen a lion before; my fear was they might shoot me in their anxiety to have a shot and be the first to kill; every man had his place assigned him, but we could not draw the lions out of their cover; the dogs made a great noise, but would not go in. Finding they would not move, I placed three Kaffirs in a good position for them to keep firing with their rifles into the most likely part; this after a time brought four lions out, three others slunk away to the rear. Two had evidently been hit by the bullets, for they made for the nearest Kaffirs, whom they seized. Three were killed, having received seven to eight shots each; those that made their escape were young, only half-grown. This was a glorious day for the Kaffirs, to go home and tell their chief and friends of their bravery.

All this part of the Kalahara belongs to and is in Gaseitsive’s territory, a country nearly 200 miles square; the northern part from Molapololo is a complete forest, fine trees, bush and open glades, and is his hunting-ground, where his people procure ostrich feathers, skins, and game, and also ivory. It was, when I first knew it, full of game, but since the natives have obtained rifles, they have greatly reduced it. The Notuane river and its branches drain the country belonging to Sechele and Gaseitsive, and is a tributary of the Limpopo. Fifty miles to the east of Molapololo is a large Kaffir station, Chene Chene, within the latter territory, under the chief Maklapan. A beautiful and picturesque hill stands close to it, which is visible at a great distance. The whole country is forest and full of game. The town is twenty-nine miles south from Motsodie. The river road to the interior from Molapololo passes through a very pretty and interesting part of the country, a long range of low thickly wooded hills on the left. Twenty-two miles on the road from Molapololo is Clokan, a small stream, another branch of the Notuane, where water seldom fails.

On my last journey I found a trader, a Mr Okenshow, outspanned, who told me several lions had killed three blue wildebeest the previous night, and advised me not to let my oxen go out of my sight in the thick bush. This spot is famed for beautiful birds. After shooting some pheasants and four of these little beauties.

I went on and passed another small stream call Koopong, thirteen miles, and then to Motsodie, the large Kaffir station under the chief Linsey, which is forty-two miles distant from Molapololo; he cautioned me to look after my horses and oxen, for the country was full of lions, and they were so bold they came close up to the town. They follow the game, more particularly quaggas or zebras, and, as there were plenty of them, also koodoos, hartebeest, and wildebeest.

Previous to my first visit, a chief named Kgamanyane left his country on the east side of the Limpopo river, crossed over and settled at this station, with all his people, by permission of Sechele, and built a large station up among several hills, that it might be well protected in case of war with any tribe. At his death, his son Linsey ruled jointly with his uncle, and claimed the country as his own, and began stealing Sechele’s cattle and killing his herds; this led to war between them; several attacks were made by the latter on the town, but they were driven off, with a few killed, and so the war for a time was ended. This was the trouble Sechele told me of. The town is well selected for defence, the hills command every approach to it. Linsey lives in a brick house, and he and his people dress in European clothes. There is a mission station under the London Missionary Society. The people are very civil and ready to help strangers. Close up to the town are some very large ant-hills, fifteen feet in height, and forty feet in circumference at the base, terminating in a sharp point. They are the work of the small white ant that is so destructive to furniture and buildings; what motive they have for building them so lofty and pointed I have never been able to discover, because all their food supply is conveyed into it through little holes at the base. They are wonderful works for so small an insect. I remained here a week that I might explore the country, which is of sandstone formation, granite below, iron-conglomerate in large boulders on the slopes of the hills.

There are two roads to the Limpopo river, one on each side of the Notuane, and another through the Bush Veldt, to the Great Marico river, with branch roads to Chene Chene, Ramoocha, and Rinokano stations, the two former ones being very bad and crossing many sluits. I took the one through the Bush Veldt. Leaving Motsodie in the afternoon, I crossed the river, and as night would be dark, outspanned early, to be prepared for any nocturnal visits from our feline friends. Fixing upon a pretty little open space, the only one I could find along the road, as it was one dense bush on both sides, I outspanned, and made everything ready, collecting plenty of wood to make big fires. Having made a fire to cook our evening meal, my three Kaffirs, or rather my Hottentot driver and two Kaffirs, were sitting smoking over it, and having seen all secure, were ready to turn into bed, when my driver, a first-class boy, called out there were lions coming on. He was the first to hear them—their noise is not to be mistaken when once heard. Having listened some time, the sounds, which on a still night can be heard a long distance off, appeared to be approaching. Our first care was to replenish the fire and pile up wood for two more, bring the foremost oxen close up to the waggon, making them fast to the wheels; the horse was placed between the waggon and fire, fastened to the front wheels, and more wood collected. During this time the lions appeared to be nearing us. After lighting the other two fires, I gave the boys a rifle each; myself and driver took up our position on the front waggon-box, that we might have a better view. The night being very still, not a sound was heard, except occasionally from our friends, as they evidently were very near. When about one o’clock in the morning the sounds ceased altogether; then we knew they had discovered us, and meant mischief. The last sounds appeared to be about 300 yards distant. This was an exciting time, for at any moment we might expect them in our midst, and to seize some of the oxen or the horse. All was still as death, except when the Kaffirs threw more wood on the fires. After waiting nearly an hour, the first indication of their presence was the restlessness of the oxen and horse, having scented them in the still air; but with all the glare of the fires they were not visible, the bush being so thick. We each took our rifles and stood between the oxen and the wood. The first warning sound was from my Hottentot driver, Dirk, who called out, “Look sharp,” and the next moment the report of his rifle. I was standing by his side, and saw the lion, not thirty paces from us, turn round, when I gave him a second bullet. He appeared to be severely wounded, as he only retreated a little distance, when he received a third from my driver, which brought him to the ground, and another in the head to make sure: a fine, full-grown lion. The other we never saw, he must have made his escape at the first shot. Early in the morning, to save time, I had him skinned, and inspanned to make my morning trek before breakfast. Two treks a day, morning and evening, nine miles each, if possible, but in this country you must be guided by water. The smell of the lion-skin at the back of the waggon made the oxen trek so fast that it was difficult to keep them under command. It is a very strange fact that calves born in the colony, grown into oxen, that have never seen or smelt a lion, should be so frightened at even the smell. Instinct, I suppose, tells them they are no friends. Those who have never seen a lion in his wild state can have no idea what a noble-looking animal he is. My driver Dirk was elated at having given the first shot, being the first lion he ever shot at. Every night in these parts we heard them at a distance. Wolves came every night. A few nights after, one came close to the waggon about midnight, not thirty yards away. I merely took my rifle as I sat up in my bed and shot him in the chest—one of those large-spotted brown sort. They smelt the raw meat at the back of the waggon. Wild dogs also this year came in large packs; they may be seen in one district for a short time, then they disappear for months. It is the same with the lions. The tiger (leopard) seldom leaves his haunts.

The distance from Motsodie to the Great Marico river road is forty-seven miles, from thence to the junction of the Notuane river with the Limpopo, seventy-four miles. On the road from whence I crossed the Notuane river to the Great Marico road, the country is very dry and sandy, but the bush in places is very lovely. A great fire was raging on our right and coming down upon us with a strong wind; there was no means of escaping it, as high grass was in every direction, by trying to get past it; I therefore held still, set fire to the grass on our left of the road, which went blazing away at a great speed, that soon cleared a large extent of ground, where I brought my waggon into a safe position; if I had not done this, the waggon and all would have been destroyed.

These grass-fires are very injurious to vegetation, killing the young trees and causing grass of a very coarse kind. This transport river road in dry weather is splendid, level and free from stones; some of the sluits are bad to cross. At the junction of the Great Marico river with the Limpopo is a drift through the latter, and a pinkish granite crops up on its banks. Wishing to have a swim, I took my towels from the waggon, and walked towards the river. On arriving at the bank, which is some fifty feet above the water, I saw on the sand beneath me a fine crocodile, on the opposite sand-bank, for the water was very low, three others basking in the sun below me, and two in the water, with a part of their heads and backs out. Those on the opposite side saw me first, for they moved towards the water slowly, and entered it and disappeared, without making the slightest ripple in the water; their bright colours made them look anything but ugly. I thought it advisable to defer my bath to some more favourable opportunity. At this point Sechele’s territory terminates and the chief Khama’s begins.

At the junction of the Notuane and Limpopo there are two drifts. At the upper one I had to repair before I could take my waggon through, which caused me a day’s delay; I therefore fixed my camp under a very pretty clump of trees on the bank, where we were in the evening fully occupied in shooting wolves, this being a very noted place for them. Having shot a hartebeest in the morning, we employed the evening in making biltong of the flesh, and placed it on the branches of the trees to dry, as it was getting dark, for in this latitude (23 degrees 30 minutes), immediately under the Tropic of Capricorn, night sets in very soon after sundown. Several wolves came round the waggon; I thought at first in the dim light they were dogs, but soon discovered my mistake. We then made a plan to catch them, by placing two pieces of the raw meat about fifty yards from our camp, fastening them to a stump of a tree, just before the moon rose at ten o’clock, that we might see them when they came; then we all took up our position with our rifles, and waited. About eleven o’clock three large ones were seen coming from out of the wood towards the baits, which they soon found and seized, but the pieces were too firmly tied for them to take away, and then they began fighting over them, when two more made their appearance, creating quite a scene. It was then time to fire, and our four bullets settled two; the others before we could reload made off, although one was wounded as he made his escape. Bringing the two dead ones to the camp, we watched a short time longer, when another was seen coming on, and when in the act of trying to drag the meat away, we shot him also, and another soon afterwards, making four, and very large ones. The next day they were skinned, as they are very useful for many purposes, and the day after, I shot a crocodile as he seemed asleep on the bank. He measured eleven feet. Being only a short distance from the Limpopo river, which is broad and in places very deep, these reptiles seem to swarm; and its well-wooded banks give shelter to hundreds of monkeys, and also to many beautiful birds.

At the junction of the Notuane river with the Limpopo, the altitude is 2880 feet at the drift, which is one of the main roads from Pretoria in the Transvaal to the trading-station Mongwato, and the chief Khama’s capital; the distance by road from the drift is seventy-three miles. The territory of Sechele, which also includes those portions now claimed by the petty chiefs Linsey at Motsodie, and Maklapan at Chene Chene, are valuable and well-wooded districts, with many native kraals; the people cultivate the land, use ploughs, and grow corn which supplies largely the inhabitants on the border of the Transvaal, and is taken in exchange for English goods through traders from the Cape Colony, and they also rear large herds of cattle. If a settled form of government is established, and Boer invasions put down, the country will soon become highly valuable as a market for British merchandise, as the natives are very industrious, and quite alive to the importance of trade; most of the beautiful karosses that find such a ready sale in the home markets are made by the Bechuana people. In all these chiefs’ territories they are excellent mechanics, manufacturing tools and utensils from native iron, and good forges are now being introduced. They have hitherto used for heating their metal, air-bags, connected by a tube, one placed under each arm, which they press to their side, which causes a blast sufficient to melt or heat the metal, which they hammer into form with stones. But this primitive mode is going out of use, and the ordinary bellows is being adopted. They purchase extensively of colonial traders, iron pots, kettles, saucepans, and tin utensils, as also every kind of wearing apparel, and if the country is protected from Boer marauders, the British merchant may look forward at no distant date to an extension of trade in these regions, over and above the present sales, up to several millions annually, as the great stride towards civilisation during my time has been most satisfactory. Twenty years ago, where one trader’s waggon went in, in 1880 there were fifty, which was stopped on the retrocession of the Transvaal to the Boers, when a collapse took place, and has continued through the murderous attacks and robbery of the Boers on the natives, but which, I trust, will now be put an end to by the British Government proclaiming a protectorate over all this extensive and valuable region.

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