I."

[1] For the history of Umslopogaasi and his Axe, the reader is referred
to the books called "Allan Quatermain" and "Nada the Lily."--Editor.

CHAPTER IV

AN ELEPHANT HUNT

Now I do not propose to narrate at full length all the incidents of our
long travel up to Sitanda's Kraal, near the junction of the Lukanga and
Kalukwe Rivers. It was a journey of more than a thousand miles from
Durban, the last three hundred or so of which we had to make on foot,
owing to the frequent presence of the dreadful "tsetse" fly, whose bite
is fatal to all animals except donkeys and men.

We left Durban at the end of January, and it was in the second week of
May that we camped near Sitanda's Kraal. Our adventures on the way were
many and various, but as they are of the sort which befall every
African hunter--with one exception to be presently detailed--I shall
not set them down here, lest I should render this history too wearisome.

At Inyati, the outlying trading station in the Matabele country, of
which Lobengula (a great and cruel scoundrel) is king, with many
regrets we parted from our comfortable wagon. Only twelve oxen remained
to us out of the beautiful span of twenty which I had bought at Durban.
One we lost from the bite of a cobra, three had perished from "poverty"
and the want of water, one strayed, and the other three died from
eating the poisonous herb called "tulip." Five more sickened from this
cause, but we managed to cure them with doses of an infusion made by
boiling down the tulip leaves. If administered in time this is a very
effective antidote.

The wagon and the oxen we left in the immediate charge of Goza and Tom,
our driver and leader, both trustworthy boys, requesting a worthy
Scotch missionary who lived in this distant place to keep an eye on
them. Then, accompanied by Umbopa, Khiva, Ventvoegel, and half a dozen
bearers whom we hired on the spot, we started off on foot upon our wild
quest. I remember we were all a little silent on the occasion of this
departure, and I think that each of us was wondering if we should ever
see our wagon again; for my part I never expected to do so. For a while
we tramped on in silence, till Umbopa, who was marching in front, broke
into a Zulu chant about how some brave men, tired of life and the
tameness of things, started off into a vast wilderness to find new
things or die, and how, lo and behold! when they had travelled far into
the wilderness they found that it