Gilpin observer., 1912-08-22

could i've TO Ms Qyln8 uay WiInous
seeing SO much a. the print OF an
English foot
He was q farmer Of Lichtenburg,
grazing district lying in the west OF
the Transvaal. and 1t was easy for
him to muster a little company OF kins-
men and friends of like temper to
trek with him out Of the Transvaal
few days after the close Of the war.
There were twenty-six whites in his
party, men, women and children, and
about a hundred Kafirs, most Of whom
and good treatment.
Du Toit had no definite choice Of
spot to settle on. He planned in
general way to spy out the land amid
and beyond the swamps OF MoZam-
bique and laid his course straight over
the weld to Komateport at the railroad
crossing between the Transvaal and
the Portuguese territory. For some
time his trek was heard from more
or less frequently, but after passing
the Portuguese border the news be-
gan to shrink to bare reports that the
Beers had been seen by natives from
northeast through the wilderness to
the vast swamps.
They were doggedly entering the
most repellent region Of the dark con-
tinent, fearful expanse of fetid pools
and loathsome mire. under the glare
of the torrid sun. the breeding-ground
OF the crocodile and all manner Of
reptiles. insects and vermin, a perpet-
ual fount of miasma and deadly fevers,
but jealously held against intrusion by
the fiercest and most bloodthirsty ma
tives of Africa All cunning and hate
are lodged In these people. into whose
native blood has come a touch OF the
Arab and OF the trader Of Madagascar.
Their normal life is war: their chief
amusement is murder: the savage
with most blood on his hands is a
hero, and may become a god when he
dies.
1t was presumed that the Boer trek
had passed into the swamps, but no
native had seen the entry and no
news came out and back to Lichten-
burg. After several months Of vain
waiting and growing anxiety. a search
for the trail was begun with the help
of native scouts.
Every path leading into the marshes
was traced for many miles by the
searching parties, but no marks of Du
Toit's trek were detected and no It'd
fngs OF the missing party could be
gathered from the natives. Yet ev-
cry Africander persisted In the belief
that the party was somewhere alive or
that its fate could be learned All
African history has no record OF lost
Boer; but, after hunting vainly for
many weeks, the Portuguese govern
ment was on the point Of giving up the
attempt, and II was evident that the
Beers must renew the search for their
countrymen or 1t would be abandoned.
had gone to Lorenzo MARQUES to
select land for the same purpose as
Du Toit in a territory beyond the
stretch of British dominion The mys-
terious disappearance of the Boer
trekkers was table-talk in the little
kiosks on the street-corners. Within
an hour after my arrival n Portuguese
colonel. who was seated at one OF the
tables. rose to meet me as / entered a
kiosk and greeted me as an old ac-
quaintance. | sat down to share a
bottle OF wine with him. and, after a
few minutes OF polite inquiries and
fowery talk. he urged me to enlist in
the hunt for the missing party.
The governor general was persuad-
ed to make one more trial. and my
friend, Colonel Andreas, was put in
command Of troop of four hundred
men. with myself and number of
friendly natives as scouts
On the second day the raw men
showed signs of fatigue. and before
the end OF the third day the horses
were tagged and plodded along with
dropping heads.
AS days went on. the column thin.
ned out more and more. stretching out
for over n mile. Millions OF insects
hovered over our marching troop.
drinking our sweat and settling in
such swarms that every mans back
looked as II It we're coated with flies
wings. One by one the stragglers in
the rear would cry for help and drop
swooning from their saddles. The
horses. too, were falling from ex.
haustion. At intervals from the sur.
rounding bush we would hear the
sharp crack Of rife; or an arrow
buzzing like n frightened humming.
bird would reach its mark in one of
our troop. 1t was idle for us to at.
tempt pursuit. Before we could spur
our tired horses to the cover, the lurk.
ing native would slip on into the thick
cts.
After month Of this travelling by
forced marches. stopping only few
times to rest at pool or stream, our
horses were too fatigued to go furth-
err We knew that we we're not far
from the border Of the swamps and
the colonel determined to make the
entry on foot