68 THE DESEKT MUST BE CROSSED. 



matters ; and beyond Ngami, the home of a far-famed chief 

 and an intelligent tribe promised a most desirable footing for 

 Christianity. Sebituane was the chief of the Makololo. Se- 

 bituane was a really great man ; his praise was on the lips of 

 other chiefs ; he was a generous man. Dr. Livingstone longed 

 to know him and teach him of Christ. He desired to gain his 

 great influence and the strength of his tribe to the gospel. The 

 chief of the Bamangwato, the tribe just above the Bakwains, 

 almost between Sechele and the lake, knew a route to it, but he 

 would not tell it, because he did not wish the ivory of the lake 

 region to become accessible to the outside world. There was 

 only one thing to do. The desert must be crossed. 



In this undertaking Livingstone was joined by Mr. Oswell 

 and Mr. Murray, both of them noted travellers. The formida- 

 ble region before them was one of peculiar interest, though 

 peculiarly inhospitable. It was a desert that was not a desert. 

 There was only one want. That want was water. There are 

 trees and vines and grasses, and animals and reptiles and people ; 

 but everything, from the men to the creeping vine, is searching 

 for water. The plants search downward, and send their roots 

 far beneath the parched surface ; they must find moisture, be- 

 cause they seem to laugh at the sun. The animals are such as 

 can go long periods without water. Their sagacity discovers 

 the few fountains and pools which are here and there. The 

 human inhabitants are Bushmen and Bakalahari. The Bush- 

 men love the desert. The Bakalahari love freedom. They 

 find the freedom in the desert which they lost elsewhere ; there- 

 fore, they are in the desert. There are plants in this wilderness 

 which take the place of fountains. They bear quite a number 

 of tubers, which are filled with a cool, refreshing liquid ; these 

 tubers are deeply buried far below the crust. They are betrayed 

 only by a stalk as large as a crow's quill. There are vast 

 quantities of watermelons in some years. Every living thing 

 in the desert rejoices when these abound. But there were none 

 when Livingstone's party was there. The human dwellers of 

 the desert use all care in concealing the few watering-places 

 which exist. Art helps the desolation. The women have a 

 singular method of obtaining water from these hidden pools. 

 They gather about the spot with their vessels, which are only 



