Kafir Stories | Page 5

fact.
Gert Botha, after a three years' experience of Maliwe's honesty and
carefulness, very seldom took the trouble to count his sheep.
"Friend of my father," said Maliwe, "I have never yet taken what
belonged to another. If you say my father stole, it may be so--but such
must have happened when he was young. He is now dead. When I was
a lad he told me he would kill me if I stole."
"Just as you say, when he was young," rejoined Kalaza. "And are you,
then, old? I wonder does old Dalisile know what a coward he is giving
his daughter to. In the good old days he would have sent you to show
that you could steal like a man--a young man--before you got your wife.
But it does not matter, I shall not die tonight, although I am old."
All this time Maliwe sat looking fixedly at the speaker, who, after a
pause, continued:
"My son Tentu wants a wife. I will go to Dalisile tomorrow and see
whether seven fat oxen will not tempt him to return your three skinny
cows, and send his daughter to my kraal across to Keiskamma, I have
heard of Nalai, and I think she will suit Tentu; at my kraal she will
never want milk."
Here again chance favoured the tempter. The one dread of Maliwe's life
was the rivalry of a rich suitor.
Maliwe bent his head over his knees, and remained in this posture for a
few minutes. He then stood up suddenly and strode out of the hut. Just
afterwards a sound as of sheep rushing about might have been heard
coming from the direction of the kraal. Kalaza heard it, and smiled. A
few minutes elapsed, and then Maliwe returned, carrying a young sheep
with its throat cut on his shoulder. This he flung down on to the ground
before Kalaza, saying:
"Friend of my father, here is meat. Eat!"

Maliwe then seized his stick, called Sibi the dog, and left the hut.
Kalaza skinned the sheep, and eat about a third of the meat, selecting
the choicest parts. He then buried the remainder of the carcase, with the
skin, in the loose, dry dung at the side of the kraal. Having done this he
walked off quickly in the direction of the village.
After leaving the hut, Maliwe climbed a rocky ridge, which rose steeply
for about a hundred yards at the back of the kraal. On the comb of the
ridge stood an immense boulder, and Maliwe spent the rest of the night
sitting to lee-ward of this, Sibi, the dog, curled up at his feet, growling
at intervals, and every now and then looking in the direction of the hut,
which was, like the kraal, out of sight, with cars cocked and nostrils
dilated.
III.
Just before dawn, Maliwe suddenly fell into the deep sleep of nervous
exhaustion. His knees were drawn up, and his head, bent forward,
rested on them sideways, He was still asleep when the sun arose and
warmed his chilled limbs. He was wakened suddenly by the loud
barking of the dog, so he bounded to his feet and ran round the boulder,
to a spot from whence he could see the hut and the kraal. Some people
on horseback had just reached the hut, and one dismounted and looked
in. He recognized them all. There was his master, Gert Botha, on his
old grey mare; there was the European sergeant, of the Cape Police;
there was private Jim Gubo of the same force, and there was Kalaza,
the "friend of his father" and his guest of the previous night.
As he stood looking, some one called out, "There he is!" The wretched
man then realised his situation. His first impulse was to fly--all the
savage in him prompting towards an escape into the bush, which lay
temptingly near. He sprang back and ran--fleet as a bush-buck towards
the cover. But after running a few yards he stopped dead still, and then,
turning round, walked slowly back over the ridge in the direction of the
hut. As he crossed the comb, he was met by the sergeant and Jim Gubo,
breathless from running up the steep hill. By them he was promptly
hand-cuffed, and then led down to where his master was standing,
between the hut and the kraal. The old goat was walking up and down

inside the kraal gate, tinkling his bell and wondering why he and his
flock had not been let out at the usual time. Kalaza pointed out to Gert
Botha the blood stains which were to be seen plentifully distributed
over the floor and poles of the hut, and then walked round the kraal.
When he reached a certain spot he paused, and began