Kafir Stories | Page 2

and unpleasant looking fecund female insects which are to be
found in the nethermost chamber of the city of the termites, and which
lay thousands of eggs daily--had safety taps, of which 'Ntsoba's master
kept the keys.
Jim Gubo and Kalaza talked about many things--of life at the convict
station, for Kalaza was the nephew of Jim's father's second wife, and
Jim consequently knew all about his companion; of the decadence of
the times, in which it was so difficult for a poor man to live without
working; of the strictness with which the locations were managed; of
how the inspectors inquired inconveniently as to strangers therein
sojourning, and chiefly about the decline in Jim's particular line of
business.
"Son of my father," said Jim, "times are very bad indeed. There is little
or no stock-stealing going on. The farmers come to the office and
report losses of sheep; we are sent to hunt for the thieves, but instead of
catching them, we find that the sheep have simply strayed into some
other farmer's flock. Will you believe it; for two months we have not
run in a single thief?"
"Mawo," replied Kalaza, "how very discouraging."
"Yes, and Government thinks we are not doing our duty, and my officer
says we are no good."

"But can you not make them steal, or make the magistrate think they
do?" rejoined Kalaza, after a pause.
"Wait a bit, that is what I am coming to," said Jim, in a low tone.
"There is one man whom I know to be a thief, but though I have tried to,
over and over again, I cannot catch him."
"Who is that?"
"Maliwe, the son of Zangalele, the Kafir whose brother Tambiso gave
evidence against you when you were tried by the judge."
Here the beady eyes of Kalaza gave a kind of snap, and he leant
forward with an appearance of increased interest.
"Tell me about Maliwe," he said.
"Maliwe," replied Jim, "is the shepherd of Gert Botha, whose farm is
near the Gangili Hill, where the two rivers join."
Kalaza pondered for a few seconds, and then asked:
"But what makes you think he steals?"
"Well, you know what a Kafir is. Maliwe lives alongside the sheep, in a
hut on the mountain--all alone. The kraal is far from the homestead.
Gert Botha never gives his servants enough to eat, and Maliwe must
often be hungry. There you have it--a man hungry night after night, and
close to him a kraal fall of fat sheep. You know!"
"Does Maliwe ever go to beer-drinks?"
"Not often, for being a Kafir, the Fingoes would most likely beat him to
death. No, he lives quietly and to himself. He has been in Botha's
service since just after he was circumcised, three years ago. He gets a
cow every year as wages, and each cow as he receives it is given to old
Dalisile, who lives on another part of Botha's farm, and whose daughter
Maliwe is paying lobola for. They say he means to earn two more cows
and then to marry the girl. But I fear he is hopeless."

Kalaza again pondered, his beady eyes twinkling incessantly.
"Do you ever employ detectives now?" he asked.
"Oh, yes," said Jim lightly, "we do so now and then. But he that is hired
must prove that duty has been done before he gets paid."
"How so?"
"By making some one guilty, and causing him to be sentenced by the
magistrate. When he has done this, the detective gets fifteen shillings.
Well, I must go to the camp. Have a drink?"
'Ntsoba came lazily in at Jim's call, and handed him a tot. This Jim took
into his mouth. He rolled it round his gums, he wagged his tongue in it.
He let it flow far back into his throat, and then brought it forward again.
Kalaza came and stood before him, and opened his mouth wide. Into
this, Jim deliberately, and with an aim so sure that not a drop was lost,
squirted about half the tot. Kalaza thereupon wagged his tongue, rolled
the liquor round ins gums, and then swallowed it slowly.
At the door of the canteen they parted.
"Good-bye, son of my father," said Kalaza.
"Yes, my friend," replied Jim, and walked away slowly towards the
police camp.
Kalaza shouldered his stick and went off quickly in the direction of the
native location.
II.
Maliwe drove home his flock at sunset, and penned them safely in the
kraal, which was constructed of heavy thorn bushes. The old kapater
goat, which acted as bellwether of the flock, strode proudly into the
enclosure, well ahead of the others, and took his station on a rock
which rose up in the middle. On this he lay down, chewing his