A Thousand Miles in a Machilla 



game was seen along the route, a circumstance 



which always adds interest to a march, and A 



secured a fine roan antelope. 



By II A.M. we reached the river, which at this 

 point is about three hundred yards broad. There 

 was plenty of water, rippling cool and pleasant in 

 the sunlight, and several natives fishing in their 

 primitive fashion. Two or three easily fordable 

 channels between sand-banks enabled us to cross 

 without difficulty, but close to the right bank the 

 water was up to the men's middles, and the current 

 strong. This bank was so high and steep that we 

 had to get out of our machillas and scramble up as 

 best we could. 



We proceeded a hundred yards or so inland, and 

 selected a suitable spot for our camp under a group 

 of fine baobab trees, but the grass was high and 

 coarse. Before pitching the tents, it had to be 

 burnt, with the result that the ground was more or less 

 blackened by the fire, and an unpicturesque feature 

 introduced into otherwise charming surroundings. 



In the afternoon A went off inland through 



the forest to a marsh or backwater, in which there 

 were a number of rough wicker fish traps stretching 

 right across the stream, showing that the place was 

 a favourite fishing-ground. The jungle on the banks 

 was very thick. He shot a large goose, which was 

 a v/elcome addition to our larder, and saw a number 

 of impala, locally know as iswalah, but no other 

 game. 



It was now the eighth day since our departure 

 from Fort Jameson, and "posho" at the rate of 



144 



