rs had met
their doom under the Swazi spears, and that a like fate would be mine.

My course lay along a winding pathway until it topped the first ridge,
then it turned abruptly to the left to avoid a swampy hollow. However,
a rhinoceros, startled by my approach, plunged through this hollow,
clearing a pathway through the dense brushwood, so I followed his
tracks and ascended the hill on the other side. Here, as I expected, I
again found the old trail. That rhinoceros saved me a detour of several
miles.

Night was now falling; the full moon arose as I stepped forward
briskly; the trail lay clear across the long grass. It led mainly
uphill for about fifteen miles, with occasional undulations. Once I
heard lions roaring in the distance. The bearers begged of me to halt
and allow them to light a fire, but I was so delighted at being safely
across the river that I determined not to stop. However, we eventually
reached the edge of an almost precipitous slope, which fell into a
hollow brimming with dense, snow white mist. A solitary tree stood at
the very edge of the steep; here I decided to camp.

When I awoke next morning I was wet through and chilled to the bone.
The mist was so dense that objects six feet away were almost invisible.
After some difficulty we managed to gather twigs from the tree
sufficient to make a "billy" of tea. The light waxed; a strange and
undefinable sensation thrilled me. I seemed to be near some surprise.
For a considerable time the air was perfectly still. Then, suddenly, a
movement became noticeable; a sudden breeze sang out of the west, and
the mist-shroud rolled away, leaving a perfectly clear atmosphere.

To my dying day I shall never forget the sight that met my gaze. I was
just on the northern verge of the Great Kaap Basin. It is in extent
probably thirty miles long by twenty wide, and is shaped somewhat like
a pear the larger end being scooped out of the mighty mass of the
Drakensberg. At the narrow end the hills dwindled somewhat, but
straight across the widest part of the valley the dark-blue mountains
of Swaziland were piled in abrupt immensity, shimmering through an
opaline medium which I cannot describe as haze, for the atmosphere was
as clear and limpid as a dew-drop. This medium seemed to make the more
distant salient contours miraculously palpable, and to fill every
hollow with richest mystery.

Tier upon mighty tier the Delectable Mountains arose, the higher peaks
shining in