On the 13th I moved my camp twelve miles up the river to a village called N’kana. Here the hills close in upon the river, but leave a series of delightful little green glades, most likely places for finding roan antelope, which are numerous in the country. But I was unsuccessful, though there was some spoor about. While crossing one of these small glades, a shout of Njoka (snake) from my gun-bearer made me spring to one side. I found that I had put my foot so close to a sleeping puff-adder that it would have been impossible to have slipped a visiting-card between us. The brute still slept; on, till I crushed the life out of it with an enormous log of wood. It rather scared me, as I was hunting with bare legs. All this country is infested with puff-adders, which are the most dangerous snakes in Africa, as they do not dart away like other snakes, but lie sleeping in the dust till they are trodden upon. They differ from other snakes in that they strike backwards. Later on, near the Chambesi, I actually trod upon one; it struck, but missed me, and turned a back somersault in the air, leaving the ground entirely. After that I always wore gaiters or stockings. I have heard of another instance of a puff-adder springing clear of the ground. This is rendered possible by their habit of striking backwards. The natives complained of the hut tax and of being forbidden to kill game: they said that many had crossed over into the German sphere; but they have all come back in a hurry.