422 THE GREAT THIRST LAND. 



could be no other person's property. I walked down 

 towards the guide, who was acting as driver, and stood 

 upon the roadway. When the cattle came abreast of 

 me they halted, for I believe in me they recognised a 

 kind master. Poor old Swartland looked into my face, 

 Bluebert and Buffle did the same, and reckless, head- 

 strong Poonah gazed upon me more intreatingly than 

 the others for why, they knew me as their master and 

 friend, and wished to exhibit how they had been over- 

 worked, and desired that they should have that sympathy 

 which can and ought to exist between the brute creation 

 and man. 



My poor oxen, they were truly in a sad state, their 

 formerly glossy hides were dust-stained, their eyes 

 lacked lustre, and every movement of their limbs 

 appeared an exertion that they were unable to repeat. 



In my heart how I blamed these people ! I could 

 have expressed my feelings in very strong language, but 

 it would not have done, so I said nothing, but fell in 

 with the truly mournful cavalcade, and marched up to 

 Mr. Mackenzie's house. What pleasure it afforded me 

 to release my poor toiling beasts was proved by my 

 actively assisting in doing so. After I left my employes 

 they had trecked night and day to reach as soon as 

 possible the capital of Bamanwatto. 



Should I have left them ? is a question that may well 

 be asked, but I was very far from well, intermittently 

 bleeding at the nose and with a feverish pulse, for the 

 constant strain upon my mind, and my utter loneliness, 

 had worn me out. 



It is Sunday, the hour about three P.M. I have been 

 resting in a wagon of Mr. Mackenzie's, when I become 

 conscious that it is time for me to turn out if I mean to 



