Resuming his journey to the north-west on the 15th, and travelling through mopani veldt, he again struck the Tati River in the afternoon at the same point where the pleasing character of the scenery had been first observed by him when he was here two months before. A spring or “fountain” of fresh water welled up at the foot of a picturesque kopje, and a mile or two up the river was abundance of water in the river-bed. “The river here,” writes the traveller at the latter point, “flows to the south through a deep sandy bed, kopjes hemming it in on either side. The scenery is remarkably pretty for South Africa, and the long reach of river flowing away to the southward is an object to attract the eye. The water actually runs in the bed here, though there is far more sand than water, and big stones than either. Stoffel says there used to be plenty of elephants here. This was the place where they passed through the kopjes on their way south, and last year he and Garland saw fresh spoor here. Out with rifle down river; pretty little grassy parks amongst the kopjes, and on the kopjes themselves very thick bush. The river where we have struck it--the ‘poort’ as Stoffel calls it--would be a pretty subject for a sketch.” Again pushing forward the following and two next succeeding days, still by the same route already traversed, Frank Oates once more reached--on August 18th--the first kraal of the Makalakas, the former scene of so much trouble and vexation to him. A few days previously it had chanced that Stoffel had slightly hurt his finger, and here, as it began to give him pain, they waited a week before proceeding further from all reach of help, to see what course the injury would take. Supplies of corn had here to be obtained, and the interval of waiting was occupied, partly in striking bargains with the natives, and partly in rearranging the contents of the waggons, to receive the grain; neither of them the most agreeable of occupations, as the following extract from the Journal shows:-- “_August 20th._--Windy day; rather cloudy. The wind rose very much towards night.... I am now lying in my waggon, glad to rest, wearied out principally with worry, and the dissatisfaction of finding time so miserably wasted as to-day has been; packing, unpacking, stooping, watching lest things are stolen, and having one’s patience tried in buying of the natives, putting up with their disagreeable presence and impudence, to say nothing of the annoyances one is subjected to by one’s own servants. I had to knock the disgusting servant of Makabo off the dissel-boom before he would go. He was bothering me for a snuff-box, and would not go away for civil speaking. I am not patient or industrious enough for waggon life. To-day has been one of nothing but unpleasantness to me.”