One curious case we saw there was a young fellow who had been lost on the veldt. His party had searched for him several days, but never found him, and supposed that he was killed. Six weeks afterwards, a party of Dutchmen were hunting that veldt, and they found a path close to their camp leading down to water with fresh spoor of a man on it. During the few days they were there, they noticed the spoor came fresh each day. They watched, and saw this man come down to drink, but when they tried to approach, he fled, and got down an ant–bear hole, where he evidently lived. They could not persuade him to come out, and so finally had to dig him out. They found he was quite off his head—unable to talk—living only on roots and berries. They took him to Salisbury, and when we saw him, he was all right, except he had lost nearly all his teeth, and could not remember much of the time when he was lost.
Black and White
The work of nursing our sick and wounded was undertaken by Sisters of Mercy, who slaved their lives out at the duty, having only one or two native boys to help them in the menial work.
The hospital nursing staff consists of eight nuns, who do excellent work. Like the Sisters in Buluwayo, they are most self–sacrificing and constant in their attention to the sick and wounded of the force. The General and I went and saw them in their own house, and had a long talk with them. The Superior (a very cheerful, sweet–faced young woman) was an old friend of his, having been a nurse at one of his hospitals for the Bechuanaland Police.
The General and his staff have been supplied with bikes by the Chartered Company (they have a number of them for the police), and they are invaluable for getting about the widespread town. The General takes us for gallops now and then, which really do one a lot of good after a load of office work. The roads are fair and the country open and pretty, and the air most delightful, except when, as it was to–day, it was dense with locusts.