Native Surgery
A friendly native wounded in the foot is being doctored by one of his friends.
We lunched and spent the heat of the very hot day in the open valley in front of Wedza’s mountain, watched with curiosity by hundreds of rebels on the hill–tops; and then we moved off early in the afternoon to tackle the ridge of hills that lay on the opposite side of the valley. Working our way on to the top of this ridge, we moved along it from end to end, capturing rebels’ kraals, of which there were about half a dozen dotted along its length. The ridge was grown with thick bush and forest, and though we came across a few natives from time to time, they always managed to elude us in the jungle; we also saw a fine wild boar, which caused quite a flutter in my breast. “If I only had you in the open, my friend!” thought I. “If only you had a horse that was fit enough to come anywhere near me!” grinned he. And so we parted.
Wedza’s Stronghold