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 carnivorae. 



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 



