MASHONALAND 51 



inhabitants fled in terror. Why, I know not. 

 Africa is full of fears and tremblings and foes and 

 marauders, and these people no doubt thought we 

 had come on a raiding expedition. 



In the afternoon we marched over some 

 likely-looking quartz outcrops, and as night 

 began to fall we reached the dried-up bed of 

 the Wezi. We were all fearfully thirsty, but 

 there was not a drop of water in sight. My heart 

 sank within me, but presently one of the M'Tokos 

 dug a deep pit in the bed of that disappointing 

 stream, and a little black evil-smelling liquid 

 welled up. It was all we had, but that indeed 

 tasted as nectar. The next day I shot a brace of 

 guinea-fowl, and in the evening we reached a 

 pretty kraal near the Mudzi, a river which in the 

 rains is a fast-flowing stream, but at the time of 

 our crossing it was well-nigh dried up. Foot-sore 

 and weary, we turned in, and the next morning 

 set off to reach the Portuguese frontier. About 

 mid-day we crossed a big open clearing in the 

 bush. Away to our left a big boundary com- 

 mission pole stood up like a dead tree, and we 

 knew that we were at last out of British territory 

 and had entered Portuguese East Africa. 



