When Sechele turned back after going so far with Livingstone eastward, it appeared that his courage had failed him.  “Will you go with me northward?” Livingstone once asked him, and it turned out that he was desirous to do so.  He wished to see Sebituane, a great chief living to the north of Lake ’Ngami, who had saved his life in his infancy, and otherwise done him much service.  Sebituane was a man of great ability, who had brought a vast number of tribes into subjection, and now ruled over a very extensive territory, being one of the greatest magnates of Africa.  Livingstone, too, had naturally a strong desire to become acquainted with so influential a man.  The fact of his living near the lake revived the project that had slumbered for years in his mind—­to be the first of the missionaries who should look on its waters.  At Kolobeng, too, the settlement was in such straits, owing to the excessive drought which dried up the very river, that the people would be compelled to leave it and settle elsewhere.  The want of water, and consequently of food, in the gardens, obliged the men to be absent collecting locusts, so that there was hardly any one to come either to church or school.  Even the observance of the Sabbath broke down.  If Kolobeng should have to be abandoned, where would Livingstone go next?  It was certainly worth his while to look if a suitable locality could not be found in Sebituane’s territory.  He had resolved that he would not stay with the Bakwains always.  If the new region were not suitable for himself, he might find openings for native teachers; at all events, he would go northward and see.  Just before he started, messengers came to him from Lechulatebe, chief of the people of the lake, asking him to visit his country, and giving such an account of the quantity of ivory that the cupidity of the Bakwain guides was roused, and they became quite eager to be there.

On 1st June, 1849, Livingstone accordingly set out from Kolobeng.  Sechele was not of the party, but two English hunting friends accompanied him, Mr. Oswell and Mr. Murray—­Mr. Oswell generously defraying the cost of the guides.  Sekomi, a neighboring chief who secretly wished the expedition to fail, lest his monopoly of the ivory should be broken up, remonstrated with them for rushing on to certain death—­they must be killed by the sun and thirst, and if he did not stop them, people would blame him for the issue.  “No fear,” said Livingstone, “people will only blame our own stupidity.”

The great Kalahari desert, of which Livingstone has given so full an account, lay between them and the lake.  They passed along its northeast border, and had traversed about half of the distance, when one day it seemed most unexpectedly that they had got to their journey’s end.  Mr. Oswell was a little in advance, and having cleared an intervening thick belt of trees, beheld in the soft light of the setting sun what seemed a magnificent lake twenty miles in circumference; and at the sight threw his hat in the air, and raised a shout which made the Bakwains think him mad.  He fancied it was ’Ngami, and, indeed, it was a wonderful deception, caused by a large salt-pan gleaming in the light of the sun; in fact, the old, but ever new phenomenon of the mirage.  The real ’Ngami was yet 300 miles farther on.