“Which, I may observe, is almost a proof that they did in reality exist; and the more so, because you will find that the knowledge of these sovereign remedies was chiefly in the hands of the Jews, the oldest nation upon the earth; and from their constant communication with each other, most likely to have transmitted their knowledge from generation to generation.”

“We have also reason to believe that not only they had peculiar remedies in their times, but also—­if we are to credit what has been handed down to us—­that the art of poisoning was much better understood,” said the Major.

“At all events, they had not the knowledge of chemistry which now leads to its immediate detection,” replied Swinton.  “But, Alexander, there are three hippopotami lying asleep on the side of the river.  Have you a mind to try your skill?”

“No, not particularly,” replied Alexander; “I have had enough of hippopotami.  By the by, the river is much wider than it was.”

“Yes, by my calculation we ought to travel no more to the westward after to-day.  We must now cut across to the Yellow or Val River.  We shall certainly be two days without water or pasturage for the cattle, but they are in such good condition that they will not much feel it.  There is a river which we shall cross near its head, but the chance of water is very small; indeed, I believe we shall find it nowhere, except in these great arteries, if I may so call them.”

“Well; I was thinking so myself, Swinton, as I looked at the map yesterday, when I lay in my wagon,” said the Major; “so then to-morrow for a little variety; that is, a desert.”

“Which it will most certainly be,” replied Swinton; “for, except on the banks of the large rivers, there are no hopes of vegetation in this country at this season of the year; but in another month we may expect heavy falls of rain.”

“The Bushmen have left us, I perceive,” said Alexander.

“Yes, they have probably remained behind to eat the lion.”

“What, will they eat it now that it has been poisoned?”

“That makes no difference to them; they merely cut out the parts wounded, and invariably eat all the carcasses of the animals which they kill, and apparently without any injury.  There is nothing which a Bushman will not eat.  A flight of locusts is a great feast to him.”

“I can not imagine them to be very palatable food.”

“I have never tasted them,” replied Swinton; “but I should think not.  They do not, however, eat them raw; they pull off their wings and legs, and dry their bodies; they then beat them into a powder.”

“Do you suppose that St. John’s fare of locusts and wild honey was the locust which we are now referring to?”