“Yes, I told them to do so,” Mr Harvey answered; “it is the custom always with traders travelling north of the Limpopo, and therefore will not be taken as a sign of suspicion of their good faith. A fair index to us of their disposition will be the amount of trade. If they bring their goods freely, we may assume that there is no fixed intention of attacking us; for if they are determined to seize our goods, those who have articles to trade would not care to part with them, when they would hope to obtain a share of our goods for nothing.”
The next morning Mr Harvey spread out a few of his goods, but hardly any of the natives came forward with articles for barter. In the afternoon Mr Harvey went across to the chief.
“How is it,” he asked, “that your people do not bring in their goods for sale? Among the tribes through which I have passed I have done much trade; they see that I give good bargains—your people bring nothing. If they do not wish to trade with the white men, let them say so, and I will tell my brethren that it is of no use to bring their waggons so far.”
“My people are very poor,” the chief said; “they have been at war with their neighbours, and have had no time to hunt the ostrich or to get skins.”
“They cannot have been fighting all the time,” Mr Harvey rejoined; “they must have taken furs and skins—it is clear that they do not wish to trade. Tomorrow morning I will go on my way; there are many other tribes who will be glad at the coming of the white trader.”
After Mr Harvey’s return to the waggons, it was evident that orders had been issued that some trade should be done, for several parcels of inferior kinds of ostrich feathers and skins were brought in. As it was clear, however, that no genuine trade was to be done, at daybreak the oxen were inspanned, and the caravan continued its journey.
For the next two days the track lay across an open country, and no signs of molestation were met with.
“We are now coming,” Mr Harvey said, “to the very worst part of our journey. The hills we have seen in front of us for the last two days have to be crossed. To-morrow we ascend the lower slopes, which are tolerably easy; but the next day we have to pass through a very wild gorge. The road, which is the bed of a stream, mounts rapidly; but the ravine is nearly ten miles in length. Once at its head we are near the highest point of the shoulder over which we have to cross, and the descent on the other side is comparatively easy. If I could avoid this spot, I would do so; but I know of no other road by which waggons could cross the range for a very long distance either way; this is the one always used by traders. In the wet season it is altogether impassable, for in some places the ravine narrows to fifteen yards, with perpendicular cliffs on either side, and at these points the river, when in flood, rushes down twenty or thirty feet deep. Even putting aside the danger of attack in going through it, I would gladly avoid it if I could, for the weather is breaking; we have already had some showers, and may get heavy thunderstorms and a tremendous downfall of rain any day.”
The next day the journey was an arduous one; the ground was rough and broken, and the valley up which the road lay was frequently thickly strewn with boulders, which showed the force with which the water in flood-time rushed down over what was now its empty bed.
After a long day’s work the caravan halted for the night at the spot where the valley narrowed to the ravine.