I had therefore arranged with a camel police trooper, when on his next patrol in that direction, to give me a lift as far as Tilrey Pan, which is the extreme eastern limit of the patrol, and which is very rarely visited even by them. The meeting-place was to be at a small group of pans known as “Drieling Pannen” (Triplet Pans), a few hours’ journey east of the Molopo and south of the Kuruman, but where I had never been. I was told to bring nothing but what I stood in, not even a rifle; but this latter stipulation I did not carry out, as I could not quite risk ten days in the desert without it, and before the camels reached me I had come to be thankful I had brought it! I left Molopo at a spot called Lentland’s Pan one Sunday afternoon, alone, finding myself in an abundant grass country, through which an old waggon track still showed, though no vehicle appeared to have passed there for years, and by sunset had reached what I supposed to be the pan; but naturally there was no one to ask, and I had an uncomfortable feeling that the road had misled me, and that I might be at the wrong spot. The pan was small and was literally covered with a big flock of _paauw_, which cleared at my approach. There was mud enough, but no water, and I foresaw a thirsty walk back should it be the wrong spot and the camels fail to turn up. I found that there was a big pack of wild hunting-dogs in the vicinity, for their fresh spoor lay everywhere, and I was glad I had brought the rifle. Somehow the conviction gained upon me that I was in the wrong place, and as night was approaching, I set about making a small _scherm_ and gathering wood for a fire. There was very little near the pan, but on the crest of some high dunes near I saw some big dead stumps, and as I should need a fire all night, I went to try and get them. The biggest one was very firmly rooted, and in my efforts to uproot it, I fell and sprained my ankle so severely that I was hard put to it to get back to the _scherm_. I immediately realised that, should this prove to be the wrong rendezvous, I would be in rather a serious predicament. I had only a little water and a piece of biltong, and although I had walked from the Molopo in an afternoon, it would take me two days to drag myself out with a badly-sprained ankle. The sun was setting, and there was no sign of the camels, but as I looked across the pan, I saw a dog come down over the dune to the edge of it.