CHAPTER III 
George Westbeech at Panda Matenga—How fathers of Jesuit mission instruct 
natives—Bad weather on road to Victoria falls—Nearly impale myself on 
assegai—Victoria falls—Trade with natives for food and tobacco—Compare 
Victoria falls with Niagara falls. 
Hammar and I walked up to the conical huts, elevated above 
the surrounding bush by the stony knoll on which they are 
built, and asked a native, who was on guard, which amongst the 
number was Jorros Motuna’s—George the Big—George West- 
beech’s hut. He pointed out a square wattle and daub building, 
to which we straightway betook ourselves, and knocked at the 
door. As it was opened from the inside by a native, we saw a 
mosquito-net pitched in one corner, under’whose weather-beaten 
folds reclined a figure that started up on seeing strangers, and 
said, ‘ I am George Westbeech.’ We introduced ourselves, and 
poor Westbeech, who was shaking with ague, put himself out to 
prepare a meal for us in spite of our repeated requests that he 
would not trouble about us, for our cart would be up directly. 
He was hospitality itself, and so delighted to see fresh faces that, 
as our acquaintance ripened, he appeared to get much better, 
and soon was reeling off a history of his experiences since the 
last visitors left, in the excited manner usual to people who live 
much by themselves. A few paces away was the Jesuit mission 
station, under the leadership of the Fathers Kroot and Bohm— 
two kindly gentlemen, to whom we also became much indebted 
for friendly little acts, most highly valued in the wilderness. 
With the usual fatality caused by isolation, Westbeech and the 
fathers were at loggerheads over some trifle, and consequently 
had not spoken to each other for months—the original dispute, 
we understood, being over a strip of agricultural ground, certainly 
