We met some native traders, and, as many of my men
were now in a state of nudity, I bought some American calico
marked "Lawrence Mills, Lowell", with two small tusks, and distributed it
among the most needy.
After leaving Mozinkwa's we came to the Zingesi,
a sand-rivulet in flood (lat. 15d 38' 34" S., long. 31d 1' E.). It was
sixty or seventy yards wide, and waist-deep. Like all these sand-rivers,
it is for the most part dry; but by digging down a few feet,
water is to be found, which is percolating along the bed
on a stratum of clay. This is the phenomenon which is dignified
by the name of "a river flowing under ground." In trying to ford this
I felt thousands of particles of coarse sand striking my legs,
and the slight disturbance of our footsteps caused deep holes to be made
in the bed. The water, which is almost always very rapid in them,
dug out the sand beneath our feet in a second or two,
and we were all sinking by that means so deep that we were glad
to relinquish the attempt to ford it before we got half way over;
the oxen were carried away down into the Zambesi. These sand-rivers remove
vast masses of disintegrated rock before it is fine enough to form soil.
The man who preceded me was only thigh-deep, but the disturbance caused
by his feet made it breast-deep for me.
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