The cattle, in rushing along to the water in the Mahabe, probably crossed a small patch of trees containing tsetse, an insect which was shortly to become a perfect pest to us.  Shobo had found his way to the Bayeiye, and appeared, when we came up to the river, at the head of a party; and, as he wished to show his importance before his friends, he walked up boldly and commanded our whole cavalcade to stop, and to bring forth fire and tobacco, while he coolly sat down and smoked his pipe.  It was such an inimitably natural way of showing off, that we all stopped to admire the acting, and, though he had left us previously in the lurch, we all liked Shobo, a fine specimen of that wonderful people, the Bushmen.

Next day we came to a village of Banajoa, a tribe which extends far to the eastward.  They were living on the borders of a marsh in which the Mahabe terminates.  They had lost their crop of corn (’Holcus sorghum’), and now subsisted almost entirely on the root called “tsitla”, a kind of aroidoea, which contains a very large quantity of sweet-tasted starch.  When dried, pounded into meal, and allowed to ferment, it forms a not unpleasant article of food.  The women shave all the hair off their heads, and seem darker than the Bechuanas.  Their huts were built on poles, and a fire is made beneath by night, in order that the smoke may drive away the mosquitoes, which abound on the Mababe and Tamunak’le more than in any other part of the country.  The head man of this village, Majane, seemed a little wanting in ability, but had had wit enough to promote a younger member of the family to the office.  This person, the most like the ugly negro of the tobacconists’ shops I ever saw, was called Moroa Majane, or son of Majane, and proved an active guide across the River Sonta, and to the banks of the Chobe, in the country of Sebituane.  We had come through another tsetse district by night, and at once passed our cattle over to the northern bank to preserve them from its ravages.

A few remarks on the Tsetse, or ‘Glossina morsitans’, may here be appropriate.  It is not much larger than the common house-fly, and is nearly of the same brown color as the common honey-bee; the after part of the body has three or four yellow bars across it; the wings project beyond this part considerably, and it is remarkably alert, avoiding most dexterously all attempts to capture it with the hand at common temperatures; in the cool of the mornings and evenings it is less agile.  Its peculiar buzz when once heard can never be forgotten by the traveler whose means of locomotion are domestic animals; for it is well known that the bite of this poisonous insect is certain death to the ox, horse, and dog.  In this journey, though we were not aware of any great number having at any time lighted on our cattle, we lost forty-three fine oxen by its bite.  We watched the animals carefully, and believe that not a score of flies were ever upon them.