Hear ill News.—Engage Hans.—Ride to Barmen.—En route.—Oxen _versus_ Mules.—Arrive at Barmen.—Jonker’s Attack.—Previous History.—Oerlams and Europeans.—Hottentots and Bushmen.—Establishment of Missions.—Native Feuds.—Dislike to Missions.—Obstruction to Travellers.—Write to Jonker.—Buy Oxen from Hans.—Breaking them in.—Attacks of Distemper.—Complete my Encampment.—Damara Digging.—Native Hunting.—Oxen sent to the Bay.—I go to Barmen.—Damara Thorn-trees.—Jonker writes to me.—My Plans.—The Ovampo.—First Rain.—Hottentot Beauties.—Hyena’s Insolence.—Damara Ferocity.—Cruel Murder.—Mutilated Victim.—Message to Chiefs.—Their Replies. Otjimbinguè is well situated for a Missionary station. Water, the first necessary of life, is here in sufficient quantity, as a small streamlet runs down the bed of the river. Grass, the next essential in the eyes of a pastoral people like the Damaras, is also in abundance, for the Swakop, at this place, instead of lying between abrupt cliffs, runs through a wide plain, that shelves for miles down its bed; and which, though covered with thorn-bushes, affords a fair allowance of grass-bearing soil. The mission-house was a temporary affair, a mud wall six feet high, and over it a round-tented ceiling of matwork, in shape like a waggon roof. A gigantic house was being built by Mr. Rath, the missionary, on the top of a little cliff close by. Mr. Rath and his wife received me with great kindness, and as this place, or its neighbourhood, was to be my head-quarters for some time, I chose my encampment with some deliberation. It was among a group of fine trees, and close by a good spring of water. The natives about the station were excessively annoying and troublesome, and I was strongly inclined to make an example of some of them; but I still followed a pacific policy. When my encampment had been planned, and the tent pitched, and bushes placed in a wide circle round the cart, I went to spend the evening with the missionary, and to hear the news of the country. The first intelligence shocked me very much; it was, that quite recently the neighbouring Namaqua Hottentots had attacked Schmelen’s Hope (three long days’ journey ahead), had murdered and mutilated the Damaras that lived there, and, naturally enough, terrified the resident missionary into leaving the place. The cause of this outrage, as far as I could learn, was simply savage barbarism, a little robbery, and a demonstration of dislike to the missionary cause. I mentioned, at the beginning of the book, the name of Jonker Africaner, as the most important man among the Hottentots; it was he who headed the expedition.