The place is called “!!Ariep!!” the notes of exclamation representing the Hottentot “clicks” that Klaas put into the alleged word. I told him I was glad to hear it, and would take his word for it sooner than go back. It really is a most beautiful spot; the river is about a quarter of a mile wide, and upstream takes a majestic bend. In that direction it is dotted with islands covered with trees and dense undergrowth, and is a favourite spot for the few hippo still to be found in the Orange. Downstream there are rapids which, though they look very innocent, are not to be trifled with, as I found later. Opposite, on the German bank, the mountains are as bare and highly coloured as those we had passed through. Indeed, “Red-hot Valley,” as we called it, is but one of scores in this region, where, strangely enough, the peaks near the river are all devoid of vegetation. The schistose rock of which they are principally composed seems to be suffering from dry-rot, for it crumbles at the slightest touch, and in climbing a whole avalanche is eternally clattering down from underfoot. Here and there a few ghostly-looking _koker boomen_, or huge twisted _Candelabra euphorbia_, looking like huge spiders, cling to a precarious footing, and that is all. The night of our arrival was a night of absolute luxury, with soft green sward for a bed, the twinkling stars above reflected in the long mirror-like stretches of the river, and the murmur of the rapids for a lullaby which we didn’t need. Next morning we started upstream, for the best part of the day skirting the narrow belt of vegetation, clambering over huge piles of débris at the base of abrupt cliffs, where the belt narrowed to a few clinging bushes, and the river swirled directly below us; at other times, when the bed widened, losing sight of the river for miles and miles, and finding it next to impossible to burst our way through the tangled virgin growth. There was no vestige of a path, though here and there we came across a fallen and rotten trunk, or a lopped branch, showing that an axe had once cut a way there. That day we were shown three different spots where shafts had been sunk on prospects many years ago: all within a short distance of the river; indeed, it was obvious that copper was to be found almost everywhere, the blue and green stains showing up in all directions on the rocks bordering the scorching sand-rivers.