THE FRINGE-EARED ORYX. 



point to himself with pride as a perfect 

 wonder. Between times he talked elementary 

 mechanics. 



" The inflammation of the sparkling plugs ? " 

 was one of his expressions that did much to 

 compensate. 



The country mounted steadily through the 

 densest thorn scrub I have ever seen. It 

 was about fifteen feet high, and so thick that 

 its penetration, save by made tracks, would 

 have been an absolute impossibility. Our road 

 ran like a lane between two spiky jungles. Bold 

 bright mountains cropped up, singly and in short 

 ranges, as far as the eye could see them. 



This sort of thing for twenty miles more than 

 a hard day's journey on safari. We made it in 

 a little less than two hours; and the breeze of 

 our going kept us reasonably cool under our 

 awning. We began to appreciate the real value 

 of our diplomacy. 



At noon we came upon a series of unexpectedly 

 green and clear small hills just under the frown 

 of a sheer rock cliff. This oasis in the thorn was 

 occupied by a few scattered native huts and the 

 usual squalid Indian dukka, or trading store. At 

 this last our German friend stopped. From under 

 the seat he drew out a collapsible table and 



