Washing, although indulged in as a luxury, is not to be commended as a practice on the veldt. Bathing “the altogether” is apt to bring on fever, and too frequent washing of the hands and face is apt to render them susceptible to veldt sores.
Matches are at a premium, pipes are manufactured out of mealie corn–cobs and small reeds. Tobacco is very scarce—tea leaves were in use till the tea came to an end.
26th October.—We struck the Gwelo–Victoria road, and it seems quite strange to be once more in civilised (!) country, and not to have to find our own way over every river, and not to be on the look–out for lions at night, etc. Even the spoor of natives fails to excite us much, as most of them about here appear to be giving in. But we hope we may not be too late to help Paget have a final slap at Monogula—one of these koppie–holding gentry who has not yet experienced a bombardment by artillery.
It is delightful marching among the hills of this Selukwe district; they are well wooded, and run up here and there into mountains. A lot of the trees are still in their autumn tints, while the others are just budding out (for it is spring here), the young grass is greenifying the low–lying land, and even the black burnt veldt is now brightened up with a great variety of wild flowers—these are what I call bluebells, cowslips, dandelions, snowdrops, sweet peas, sweet williams, convolvulus, and poppies, and many more. Not that they are these flowers actually, but as they have some faint resemblance, I like to be reminded by them of the English flowers.
And the woods are cheery with the chirp and whistle of the birds, and though there are no songsters among them, there is a fellow whose note is like a robin, another like a chaffinch, and, best of all, one who distantly resembles a thrush. And overhead the trilling pipe of a big brown hawk brings back at once the glaring heat of India.
And then the peeps, between the trees of wooded peaks beyond show one such colours as can’t be found in paint–boxes. Where would you get that pearly lilac of the lit–up face of the rock or the pure deep blue of the shadows?
All about among the hills are gold reefs pegged out with notice–boards, and near them the wattle and daub houses of miners—all deserted and looted, but not burnt.
27th October.—The roads are awful for our wretched mules, so hilly, stony, and dusty, but we have struggled on, and at last, on the 27th, we have joined Colonel Paget’s column. This column consists just now of merely a squadron of 7th Hussars, the West Riding Mounted Infantry being away on patrol.
Such a breakfast they gave us on arrival, with milk (tinned), fish, jam, etc. etc. Beautiful camp under the trees. English mails and newspapers, the first for a month. News of Nansen’s return, and of my brother George bringing Nansen home in his yacht Otaria, just what I had hoped Admiral Markham was going to do, taking me with him; we talked of it two years ago.