The Journal of a Sporting Nomad 



time on the road, oxen were scarce, and conse- 

 quently expensive to buy. They were too often 

 dying from redwater or rinderpest, bitten by the 

 tsetse fly, or some other deadly ailment peculiar 

 to cattle, so that it is pot to be wondered at that 

 transport riders, as they are termed, made their 

 hay when the sun shone. 



There was nothing much for me to do in 

 Salisbury, most of the men in the place having 

 work that occupied them during the daytime, 

 whilst the town itself could be seen in an hour, 

 the hospital, church, and Club being the prin- 

 cipal buildings. I met F. C. Selous one day. 

 He was passing through the town with his wife 

 on the way to a farm he owned. His waggons 

 had gone on ahead, whilst he was riding on 

 horseback. 



I soon tired of doing nothing, so collected an 

 assortment of boys, who, with the addition of a 

 Hottentot rascal I engaged as interpreter, num- 

 bered just over twenty. I meant to shoot on 

 my way back to Chimoio, going into the country 

 in any likely place I could hear of, for the game 

 had been driven far away from the transport 

 road. 



At Marandella's Post I left the road, going to 

 stay a night with a man who had a farm ten 

 miles away. He was very kind and hospitable, 

 offering to accompany me if I would wait a day 

 or so in order that he could make the necessary 



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