A Saddle-ox 
place. I went to the door, and managed to drag 
out our host, who had been overcome by the 
smoke. The hut adjoining caught fire from 
flying sparks alighting on the thatch with which 
it was covered, but by hard work we confined 
the damage to these two buildings, then tumbled 
back into bed, where we spent the rest of that 
eventful night without further mishap. 
Next morning our driver of yesterday having 
again put in an appearance, we resumed our 
journey towards Umtali. At one place where 
we halted for lunch, I saw the ugly skull of a 
baboon which possessed the largest pair of 
canine teeth I have ever seen out of any but the 
head of one of the largest of the carnivore. 
I thought that ox-waggon ride would never 
come to an end. How I loathed it! I would 
infinitely rather have walked the distance. A 
journey such as this seems doubly long if the road 
on which the traveller passes is unfamiliar to him. 
Arrived at the hotel at Umtali, the first 
thing I did was to have a bath in order to try 
and rid myself of that penetrating brick-red 
dust with which I was smothered. This made 
me feel better, and I wandered about the place, 
seeing what few sights there were in this town. 
I was standing on the step of the hotel when I 
saw a man trotting up to the house, mounted on 
an ox. He sat on an ordinary saddle, but, instead 
of bit and reins, guided his mount with a piece 
87 
