It was one of the many convoys that were going north into the great unknown. One of the many that, coming to ranges of mountains that were impassable, dismantled their wagons, and passed them; man-handling them over cliffs and gorges and rebuilt them on the other side; that finding rivers too deep to be forded, swam their beasts and floated their wagons across the "yellow river" into the Transvaal; and beyond that again to it's northernmost limits; to the low veld, to the banks of the Crocodile and the Limpopo. It was the seepage of a small, great-hearted people into a continent.

It was the great trek.