A Thousand Miles in a Machilla 



Nawalia had recently been a considerable station, 

 but all was now deserted, and we had some difficulty 

 in selecting a camping ground. The buildings of 

 the disused boma stood on a steep rocky hill over- 

 looking the right bank of the river (Nyamadzi), and 

 under normal circumstances we should certainly 

 have investigated them with a view to temporary 

 occupation, but in this part of the world disused 

 houses means kufu bug. 



The right bank, on which we were, was grass 

 grown, covered with scrub, and devoid of shade. 

 Consequently, after some hunting about in the hot 

 sun we crossed the river to the left bank, along 

 which there was cultivation, and had our tents 

 pitched under a big sausage tree standing a short 

 distance back from the river bank. The river itself, 

 a hundred yards or so broad, looked pleasant enough, 

 the clear cold water running over a hard, sandy 

 bottom. The banks were high and steep, and so 

 thickly covered with reeds and rushes that we were 

 a bit anxious about mosquitoes. However, we were 

 fortunate, and passed an untroubled night. 



The remainder of the day was rather uncomfort- 

 able, as the place was hot and the strong wind made 



it dusty. In the evening A went along the 



river in search of game, but only saw a few iswalah 

 running about in the thick scrub. 



Under the boma on the left bank was the grave 

 of an Englishman, a Mr. Jocelin, who had been 

 killed elephant hunting about three years before. 

 John declared that he was with him at the time of 

 the accident. The grave, which was marked by a 



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