Indaba-zimbi's magic cannot have been worth so much after all, or he
would have told me.

I found the country almost entirely depopulated. Not very long before
Mosilikatze the Lion, Chaka's General had swept across it in his
progress towards what is now Matabeleland. His footsteps were evident
enough. Time upon time I trekked up to what had evidently been the sites
of Kaffir kraals. Now the kraals were ashes and piles of tumbled stones,
and strewn about among the rank grass were the bones of hundreds of men,
women, and children, all of whom had kissed the Zulu assegai. I remember
that in one of these desolate places I found the skull of a child in
which a ground-lark had built its nest. It was the twittering of the
young birds inside that first called my attention to it. Shortly after
this we met with our second great adventure, a much more serious and
tragic one than the first.

We were trekking parallel with the Kolong river when a herd of blesbock
crossed the track. I fired at one of them and hit it behind. It galloped
about a hundred yards with the rest of the herd, then lay down. As we
were in want of meat, not having met with any game for a few days past,
I jumped on to my horse, and, telling Indaba-zimbi that I would overtake
the waggons or meet them on the further side of a rise about an hour's
trek away, I started after the wounded buck. As soon as I came within
a hundred yards of it, however, it jumped up and ran away as fast
as though it were untouched, only to lie down again at a distance. I
followed, thinking that strength would soon fail it. This happened three
times. On the third occasion it vanished behind a ridge, and, though
by now I was out of both temper and patience, I thought I might as well
ride to the crest and see if I could get a shot at it on the further
side.