THE KALAHARI DESERT. 
3 
If I could only get near enough to kill one of the 
cows, I might manage to get a little milk or some 
blood to drink. I was too weak to attempt to stalk 
them, so waited patiently, in the hope that they might 
come within range, as they were grazing towards me. 
At last they got within about eighty yards, and, taking 
a steady aim at one of the cows — they are easily dis- 
tinguished by their horns being thinner and more 
tapering than those of the bucks — I fired, and shot 
her dead in her tracks. Sending two other shots after 
the flying herd, I rose to my feet, but my head swam, 
and only by stopping every now and then, and leaning 
on my rifle for support, could I drag myself along to 
where the dead cow lay. My tongue and throat were 
on fire, and I longed for a drink of water, of milk, of 
blood, of anything to drown the scorching, choking 
sensation ; but I was doomed to disappointment. I 
felt my hands and face begin to swell, a cold shudder 
passed through my frame, and my trembling knees 
refused to support me. Suddenly the earth seems to 
tip up, and all is black. I am falling, but my arms 
drop helpless at my side, and I can do nothing to save 
myself — 
So faint I am, my tottering feet 
No more my trembling frame can bear; 
My sinking heart forgets to beat. 
As drifting sands my tomb prepare. 
My only feeling is that of burning of the entire body. 
Those roots, that I thought so comforting, were 
poisonous, and this is the beginning of the end. I 
can feel a numbness growing over me, alternating now 
and then with the terrible burning sensation. Yes ; 
this must be death. I had not the slightest power 
to move a limb, but my brain became more and more 
active. Past, present, and future seemed mingled in 
one rapid mental panorama, and I began to wonder 
whether my body would ever be found, or whether I 
should become the prey of lions and jackals, while 
picturing to myself the dismay of poor Lulu and the 
others, when they found I did not return. I was 
