A Rip Van Winkle of the Kalahari | Page 7

it was a "rough" stone,
untouched except by nature.
I was too stunned to speak, or do anything but clutch it, and gloat over
it, and mutter "Where? where?"
CHAPTER II

DEAD MEN IN THE DUNES

I don't know how long I gazed in fascination at the wonderful stone, but
at length a low chuckle from Inyati brought me back to reality. He
stood looking at me, with a whimsical smile on his face.
"Magic," said he, "magic, my master! Did I not say there was magic in
these 'bright stones'? And who shall say it is not so? Has not my master
for a whole moon been lifeless and sad, until he looked even as the old
cow that died of lung-sick but yesterday? And has not the very sight of
the magic stone again brought fire to his eye, till he is again even as the
young bull that killed two of those Bushmen dogs also but yesterday?
Who shall say it is not magic?"
"Inyati," I stammered, coming back to my senses, and ignoring his
extremely doubtful compliments, "speak, man; where did you get this?"
"In my own land, master; a far land, many moons' trek from here, and
where there are many. But few dare touch them except indeed the
devil- men and they are not men at all, but devils! Though I feared
them little even then . . . and now, now that I have a gun (for surely my
master will give me the little gun that speaks many times for this magic
stone?) I fear them not at all! And we will go back and get many more
if my master so wishes and I will see again the woman who gave me
the stone as a talisman long years ago!"

Give him "the little gun that speaks many times" the Winchester for a
diamond worth a king's ransom?
"Inyati," I said, though I was sorely tempted, "the gun is thine; not
indeed for the stone, for that I will not take from thee, and it is worth
more than all the guns and cattle I possess. But for the gun, guide thou
me to this land of thine, that I may find these stones thou callest
magic."
"That will I do readily, master," he answered, "and, in truth, I am well
content to keep the stone, for the sake of the woman who gave it me.
And there are many more! And did I not say truthfully that the stones
were magic? See now, my master, the very sight of one has made my
master give me the desire of my heart the little gun that speaks many
times."
I gave him the Winchester there and then, and never did I see a human
being so delighted.
Late into the night we sat and talked, and planned, whilst the Bushmen
sat round their camp fire, and clucked and chattered in their queer-
sounding speech, gorging themselves to repletion on the offal of an
eland I had shot the previous day.
I learnt that Inyati's country lay far to the north-east, across the dreaded
waterless stretches of the unknown Kalahari. He had fled from it years
ago, his life forfeit to the priests or "devil-men" as he called them for
some cause that he did not explain, or that my limited knowledge of his
language did not permit of my understanding. The stones were plentiful,
that he assured me of again and again, but they were sacred, or tabooed,
and no one was allowed to handle them but the priests of whom he
spoke.
He had always wanted to return, but had always Feared, but now with
his "little gun" I believe Inyati would cheerfully have faced a thousand
priests, or for the matter of that a thousand warriors. Danger there
would be, but what was that to him and his master?

He could find his way back, though the journey would be long and
difficult; and now was the only season in which it could be undertaken;
the season when the wild melon made it possible to traverse the
waterless wastes of the "Great Thirst Land."
I did not hesitate a moment, in fact no wink of sleep had I that night,
but lay tossing and turning, longing for daylight to come that I might
inspan and commence my long trek.
It came at last, my preparations for striking camp were soon made, and
sending off my crowd of Bushmen camp-followers with a small present
of tobacco, I turned my back to the sea and began my long journey to
the north-east.
Out of the long defiles and valleys we threaded our way into the open
country, past the huge flat-topped mountains of Ombokoro, the fastness
of the Berg Damaras, thence