For some reason I could never get the Hottentots or Bastards to skin a snake. Several of our “boys” were expert hands at “braying” a skin, and steenbok, duiker, jackal, lynx, leopard, or in fact any animals we killed, were soon converted into beautifully soft furs, but when it came to a snake I had to do it myself. At the end of a few days of this pleasant break in desert life a Bushman messenger whom we had sent out brought the news that he had found a patch of mature t’samma between Aar Pan and a small pan called “Koma,” where the indications were promising; and as this meant that oxen could remain in the desert, and we should be independent of water, we hastened back southward to the waggon and reentered the Reserve. We also took a light Scotch cart, with which, from this new base, we hoped to be able to make a flying trip eastward with sufficient tools to test some of the pans properly. About a day’s trek into the desert we found the t’samma, a patch of about a morgen where a vagrant thunderstorm had fallen in season, and in which the little juicy insipid melons were just about the right size--that of a cricket-ball. On them we lived, quite independent of water, eating them raw, or leaving them in the ashes overnight--in which case they are full of a clear liquid by morning. Coffee can be made or cooking carried out with this, but though life can be sustained for an indefinite period upon this substitute, the craving for water is always present. Unfortunately, this t’samma did not obviate the real difficulty of testing the ground, for which an abundance of water was needed, and after a few days Du Toit and myself, leaving the rest of the party, inspanned six oxen in the Scotch cart and started eastward. We had with us a Bastard named John Louw, who knew the desert in that part better than most men, and believed that with moderate luck we should be able to trek from pan to pan with a fair amount of tools, etc., where hitherto we had barely been able to reach as we stood.