the latter his good fortune in
being able to leave India to undertake afresh the pleasures and pains of
desert life. I believe Mr. Oswell came from his high position at a very
considerable pecuniary sacrifice, and with no other end in view but to
extend the boundaries of geographical knowledge. Before I knew of his
coming, I had arranged that the payment for the guides furnished by
Sechele should be the loan of my wagon, to bring back whatever ivory he
might obtain from the chief at the lake. When, at last, Mr. Oswell came,
bringing Mr. Murray with him, he undertook to defray the entire expenses
of the guides, and fully executed his generous intention.

Sechele himself would have come with us, but, fearing that the
much-talked-of assault of the Boers might take place during our absence,
and blame be attached to me for taking him away, I dissuaded him against
it by saying that he knew Mr. Oswell "would be as determined as himself
to get through the Desert."

Before narrating the incidents of this journey, I may give some account
of the great Kalahari Desert, in order that the reader may understand in
some degree the nature of the difficulties we had to encounter.

The space from the Orange River in the south, lat. 29 Degrees, to Lake
Ngami in the north, and from about 24 Degrees east long. to near the
west coast, has been called a desert simply because it contains no
running water, and very little water in wells. It is by no means
destitute of vegetation and inhabitants, for it is covered with grass
and a great variety of creeping plants; besides which there are
large patches of bushes, and even trees. It is remarkably flat, but
interesected in different parts by the beds of ancient rivers; and
prodigious herds of certain antelopes, which require little or no water,
roam over the trackless plains. The inhabitants, Bushmen and Bakalahari,
prey on the game and on the countless rodentia and small species of
the feline race which subsist on these. In general, the soil is
light-colored soft sand, nearly pure silica. The beds of the ancient
rivers contain much alluvial soil; and as that is baked hard by the
burning sun, rain-water stands in pools in some of them for several
months in the year.

The quantity of grass which grows on this remarkable region is
astonishing, even to those who are familiar with India. It usually rises
in tufts with bare spaces between, or the intervals are occupied by
creeping plants, which, hav