The Dingi-Dingi 
times very pig-headed. In this case my man put 
them in too hot a house, with the result that he 
killed a good many of my best plants. 
We arrived late in the afternoon at a ford, 
where we were to cross the river. Here the water 
was, in some places, up to our middle. It is 
rather a creepy business wading a stream when 
you are perfectly aware that the place swarms 
with crocodiles. The river at this place was quite 
one hundred yards broad, the stream, too, was 
strong. I went second, Cooe leading the way, 
Weddell bringing up the rear, and we landed 
on a sand-spit. Here the ground was literally 
ploughed up with the spoor of a big herd of 
buffalo—they had evidently made a yard of the 
place. 
The river banks were densely fringed with tall 
reeds and grass, but at a short distance there 
was an excellent site for my camp, and it did 
not take long to clear away the grass and pitch 
our tents. 
That evening before we turned in Weddell 
told me the following story. He had been 
hunting in this place the previous year, and on 
one occasion passed close to a tree which grew 
among some tall reeds. Whilst passing he was 
amazed to see a lioness jump out of the branches 
and then disappear in the grass. Now, I thought 
that I could swallow a lot, but doubted my 
capacity to digest this piece of information. 
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