Kafir Stories | Page 6

probing in the
loose dung with his stick. He then called out to Jim Gubo, who joined
him, and the skin and other remains of the slaughtered animal were
soon brought to light.
Maliwe, when confronted with his master, looked him straight in the
face. Gert Botha lifted the heavy sjambok which he usually carried, and
struck the prisoner heavily over the bare head and face. A thick, grey
wheal immediately followed the blow, but Maliwe did not even wince.
"Jou verdomde parmantig schepsel," cried the irate Boer. "Ik neuk jou
uit jou hartnakigheid." (You infernal, insolent fellow, I will have you
out of your stiff-neckedness.) Botha would have struck him again, had
not the sergeant interfered.
So Maliwe was marched, carrying the corpus delicti, in to the gaol.
Within an hour after his arrival, the magistrate sentenced him to receive
twenty-live lashes with a cat o' nine tails on the bare back, and to pay a
fine of five pounds, being five times the value of the slaughtered sheep
according to Gert Botha's computation. In levying the fine, the two
cows which he had given as lobola were seized--much against the will
of old Dalisile. Out of the proceeds, Gert Botha was paid the value of
the sheep, and Kalaza received fifteen shillings, which he, in company
with Jim Gubo, spent the same day at the canteen.
Sibi, the dog, hung about the gaol howling, until he was driven away
with stones. He then returned to his master's hut, and howled there all
the afternoon and through the night. Next morning, Gert Botha's son
Andries shot him.
Maliwe received his twenty-five lashes, and was discharged from
prison, after his back had, under the superintendence of the District
Surgeon, been well washed with brine, to prevent evil results. Neither
under the flogging nor the pickling did Maliwe exhibit the slightest
sign of the torture which he suffered.

On the same evening Maliwe went to a certain tree, just at the back of
old Dalisile's huts, and gave a long, low whistle, which was the
established signal between himself and Nalai. Unfortunately, however,
Nalai did not hear him, but her two big brothers, Kawana and Joli, did.
Old Dalisile, anticipating Maliwe's visit, had kept Nalai out of the way,
and put his two sons to watch. These fell upon Maliwe and smote him
so hard with their kerries, that he lay for a long time senseless on the
ground. When he regained consciousness, he limped quietly away.
He has not since been heard of in the neighbourhood.
THE FUNDAMENTAL AXIOM.
The wild ass of the desert knows, By inborn knowledge, friends from
foes. The tame ass of the village browses Contentedly between the
houses. He has no foes, he has no friends, He toils and eats until he
ends.
But this time, Fate, on grim jokes bent, A wild ass to the village sent.
Oh, what a tempest shook the village, 'Twas worse than flood, or fire,
or pillage!
Now if an ass I needs must be, The desert's joys and pains for me.
Broodigrass.
I.
It was evening. In the old mission house the frugal supper was over,
and the missionary, his wife, the two lady-teachers, the eleven native
female boarders and the native probationer, all knelt down to prayers.
The eleven boarders and the probationer had come in at the sound of
the bell, the eldest boarder leading, and the probationer bringing up the
rear.
A few seconds later, the old black housemaid and cook combined
strode heavily in and knelt down just inside the door. Prayers over,
Miss Elizabeth Blake, the senior lady teacher, sat down to the

harmonium and played the first few bars of a hymn. Then the little
congregation stood up and sang. They kept good time, and their singing
was fairly in tune, but the voices of some of the native girls were very
harsh and shrill, and somewhat spoilt the general effect. The
probationer, Samuel Gozani, led the singing from his place close to the
instrumentalist. The choir stood facing the right-hand end of the
harmonium, and the leader stood just on Miss Blake's left hand, and to
see the choir he had to look over her head. The hymn happened to be
Luther's "Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott"; it was sung in English, but the
Reverend Gottlieb Schultz, the missionary, forgetting the English
words, drifted into the original German at the second verse, rather to
the detriment of the performance. Miss Blake sang out her clear, simple
soprano tones, very rich in the low notes. She was a handsome girl,
rather stout, with blue eyes and dull yellow hair. Her face was
somewhat pale from overwork and want of fresh air. Altogether, she
had a strongly Teutonic look, and was, in fact, almost