THE OKAVANGO RIVER 43 



straps of my old riding mule. The mules had 

 turned out a good purchase, for they had kept 

 their condition well, had weathered the horse 

 sickness, and were quite passable enough for 

 riding after game or for riding ahead in search 

 of the best way for the wagon to follow. Still, 

 it is impossible to get fond of a mule as we get fond 

 of a horse, the mule being neither " flesh, fowl, nor 

 good red-herring.' ■ The dismay of a hen hatching 

 out a brood of ducklings must surely be equalled 

 by the anxiety of an old mare at her long- eared, 

 half-neighing, half-heehawing progeny. 



During the whole eighteen days we were working 

 down the river to Mafoota's, we neither saw nor 

 heard any lions, nor indeed met a fresh lion spoor. 

 Joe was suffering intermittently from fever, so 

 we travelled slowly. We met and made friends 

 with two or three small parties of bushmen on 

 the way down. One morning I shot two koodoo, 

 but one of them was only wounded, clumsily 

 enough, in the fore-shoulder. I had only a young 

 bushman boy of about fifteen years with me at 

 the time, but he ran the trail for fully three hours 

 ahead of me, and finally the poor brute worked 

 round close to my camp again. After some lunch 

 and an hour's spell, picking up two other young 

 bushmen and again taking up the spoor, I got 

 another shot late in the afternoon, and finished 

 the wounded animal. Apart from the satisfaction 

 of not having let a wounded beast go, it was an 

 interesting business watching these three red 



