I had, whilst waiting for the Ovampo, some fresh oxen broken in, and among them Kahikenè’s fine black ox. I did so because news arrived one evening that Kahikenè was killed, and I wished to keep a memento of him, and not to eat his present. It appeared that he went to Omagundè’s son’s werft immediately after we had parted, and made a bold charge. When the fighting was at its thickest, all Kahikenè’s men dropped off, and ran away, leaving him and his son alone. My old servant, Piet, from Mozambique, remained a little time with him, and shot two men with his gun, but then became frightened, and made his escape. An arrow struck Kahikenè; and as he fell to the ground, Omagundè’s men speared him through and through with their assegais. His son, a fine intelligent lad, rushed up to him in despair, and was murdered by his side. As I have brought my narrative to the time when we were about to leave Damara-land behind us; and as we had already lived five months in it, and of course had seen much of the manners and habits of the people, it will be a good opportunity for me to mention them in order, and more fully than I could have done before, without anticipating or breaking the thread of my story. To commence with their name. It is in their own language “Ovaherero,” or the “Merry People;” but those who are settled towards the interior are always called “Ovampantieru,” or the “Deceivers;” for what reason I am totally unable to find out. Damup, which is the Namaqua name for the people generally, has been corrupted by the Oerlams and Dutch traders into “Damara,” and by this title they have always been known to the whites. Like the word “Caffre,” it is an established name, and also a convenient one; for it supersedes all distinctions of locality and of tribes, which Ovaherero does not; in addition to this, it is very pronounceable, and therefore I prefer adhering to established usage, and calling these savages by it, rather than by words in their own language. Next, as to their jumble of ideas, which, for want of a better name must be dignified by that of their religion or creed— In the beginning of things there was a tree (but the tree is somehow double, because there is one at Omaruru, and another near Omutchamatunda), and out of this tree came Damaras, Bushmen, oxen, and zebras. The Damaras lit a fire, which frightened away the Bushmen and the oxen; but the zebras remained. Hence it is that Bushmen and wild beasts live together in all sorts of inaccessible places, while the Damaras and the oxen possess the land. The tree gave birth to everything else that lives; but has not been prolific of late years. It is of no use waiting by the side of the tree in hopes of capturing such oxen and sheep as it might bear. [Illustration: DAMARA WOMAN.]