Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 199, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 August 1914 — VELDT RIDERS MEET MANY DANGERS [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

VELDT RIDERS MEET MANY DANGERS

THOUGH South Africa is steadily becoming covered with a network of railroads, there are still great stretches of country that are not yet linked up. In these parts the ox wagon is toe only means of transportation. West of Mafeklng, right to the seaboard, there is one unbroken stretch of veldt; and to reach the Atlantic coast there is only one way to travel, namely, trek it by ox wagon. , Fate once sent me on a trading trek up to Lake Ngamj, says a writer in London Answers. Well, Lake Ngami is about a thousand miles from nowhere. To be a little more accurate, however, the lake lies in the northwestern part of the Bechuanaland protectorate, and to reach the little trading center up there, one has to cross toe northern part of the dreaded Kalahari—a waterless desert. My wagon had 19 oxen to pull it, and the 'load on it was 5,000 pounds. But it took me over two months to cover the five or so hundred miles that lay between the small native capital of Serowe and Tsau, the capital of Ngamiland. Half of the distance was over sandy, waterless deserts, and the rest through fever and lion infested’ veldt. After a Twelve-Day Trek. "We’ll outspan here, Natal," I cried to my native driver. It was just an hour before dawn, and the African sky was lit with a myriad of stars. The oxen were quickly unyoked, but were not allowed to graze, as we would be on the move again in an hour. We were half way in the desert. We had been on trek 12 days. The oxen were used to "thirst,” but the ceaseless strain of the sandy desert was making itself felt. The beasts were already looking worn and shrunken. I sat down by the small fire we had kindled and smoked. Everything, vtas very quiet. The sleeping veldt was hushed. Around us were miles of flat, sparsely vegetated country, every mile the same. Not a drop of water had we seen for two days since we had left the last well; and there lay 30 miles of waterless veldt before the next well would be reached. The saffron hue of breaking day is now tinting the eastern sky. It is time to inspan again. Soofl the oxen are all in their yokes, and the signal to start is given. The sun has now risen. It is growing hotter. The' oxdn are becoming distressed. The merciless whip descends —and again. It is no time for pity. Water must be reached! On and on the wretched animals pull their load. The sun is now high in the heavens. We outspan. The weary oxen lie under the scanty shade of stunted bushes. We lie

under tjto wagon, and doze in the heat of the day. Everything Is parched and dry. Everywhere around us is the sandy desert. » It is nearly sundown. Inspan again. Once again on trek over the same unending spoor. It’s now ddrk, night bringß some relief. The stars come out in all their brilliancy, and the - moon throw* ghostly shadows over the sleeping veldt. “Whoop! Whoop!” sounds in the dear night air. A short outspan. A little fire glows, and we drink a hasty cup of coffee. The oxen lie exhausted. No necessity to tie them to their yokes; they are now too tired to move! Another dawn is breaking. It grows lighter. We inspan again. A startled stemhuck darts through the bush at the sound of the approaching wagon. The oxen plod wearily over the heavy sand. The axldt of the wagon Sink; the wagon sticks fast. The merciless whip descends. An ox falls at the yoke, but is flogged Into obedience again. No time for &lty! Water must be reached. Whoop! Whoop! On and on. One mile an hour—that is all we can tsaveL The sand is so heavy!

We are outspanned at a well. Large, shady trees encircle our camp. The sun is sinking behind the trees and night is approaching. The oxen have drunk their fill, and are now wrapped in slumber —poor, patient beasts of burden, that have done their Work so faithfully and well! . . . In the Lion Country. We are now out of the desert and by the river. Large, leafy trees overshadow the wagon where we are outspanned. Monkeys in little bands clamber over the branches and utter shrill cries. Behind us flows the deep Botletle, its banks thick with reeds, amid which lie sneaking crocodiles. The. road is still heavy, but we have water in plenty; so the oxen pull well in toe yokes. Tomorrow we shall outspan by a trader’s store, and I am glad at the thought, for it is now a good many days since I have spoken to a white man. The hospitable trader 1b now left behind, and half the journey is done.

But we are now in lion veldt! And fever is with us. I take quinine that night, as 1 feel the first approach of that dread enemy—malaria. Big fires also are lit beside the line of sleeping oxen. Faintly, in tile distance, comes toe roar of the marauder, out on his nightly prowl. The oxen stir uneasily. An extra log is thrown on the fires and the flames throw queer shadows on our leafy bower. My Bleepy eyes open at dawn. I notice the fire is almost out There is a chill in the air, and a ghostly stillness about everything. I stir the dying embers with my foot and throw on a few

sticks. The kettle is soon boiling, and a refreshing cup of coffee Is drunk. As I go to give orders to lnspan, I suddenly stop! For I see the spoor of two lions not ten feet away from the front oxen. But one gets used to that! Two mo?e treks and we shall be in Tsau. We are all cheerful at the prospect—l, for I shall be able to fraternize with some of my kith and kin again, and the natives, because their wages are due. The oxen, too, seem to know there Is a well earned rest ahead, and pull almost eagerly in the yokes.

A DULLOCK WAGON

A Native Porter.