158 THROUGH ANGOLA 



and meadow, and the running brook near his 

 homestead, there is the yellow of sand and grey 

 of leafless tree and granite boulder ; where the 

 mountain stream of the hills has hurried below 

 the ground as if fearing its death in the fierce 

 heat and dust of the plain, fearing it except when 

 in the flush of summer rain it can come over- 

 ground, a yellow 7 , foam-flecked torrent, racing down 

 a dry stream bed, to pass and leave it dry. 



The Boer has destroyed the game life of this 

 country as he destroyed it round his homestead 

 in the higher plateau, and lives to destroy it in 

 the south-eastern plains of Angola ; for when I 

 wandered in the desert to hunt and photograph 

 the game, there was so little of animal life that I 

 killed but one spring buck for food, and forbore 

 to disturb and destroy the few hunted creatures 

 that still found refuge in the scrub. 



There were compensations for the lack of game 

 in watching the Chella Mountains from the plain 

 below them. It was delightful in those cool 

 hours before daylight and at sunset to see the 

 great wall of the Chellas turn from black to purple, 

 and from purple to pink and red and gold, and 

 see lights and shadows come where there had been 

 a monotone of colour. There was ever before 

 me the wondrous monolith of Cha Molundu, over- 

 topping the other granite peaks and columns ; 

 while near me, rising above the yellows and blacks 

 of the scrub, were the bare granite shapes of 

 Pedra Grande and Pedra Pequena, the saw-like 

 crest of the Scrra Cachimba, and in the distance 

 I lie Montcs Negro. 



