We were still at the camp near the bush by the sea, and the week's hunt
was ended. The "boys" had gone off to a neighbouring kraal to dance and
eat and drink throughout the night, and we were left in the great quiet
of a South African evening. As usual, Long Jim had squeezed from his
concertina all the melancholy airs he knew, and Amos Topper had trotted
out all his well-worn arguments against the _Ukolobola_--the Kaffir
system of selling girls into wedlock in exchange for cattle; a system
which he warmly contended was the root of all the stock-thieving.
"A darned good system," said Abe; "one that's based on reason and
justice; that's so."
"Hear the old boomer!" said Amos scornfully; "anyone would think he'd
got a parcel o' daughters to marry off fer cattle."
"Go slow, Amos Topper, and maybe you won't stumble. A good system, says
I; and why? 'cos it's lasted all these centuries--since and before Jacob
he collected a heap o' goats for his wife. See yer, when a white man
marries a girl he don't give nothin' for her, but he asks her father how
much he's going to give the girl. That's what a white man does, and
lor' lov' yer, more often than not he swallows up all her money, and
then beats her, the skunk. Now a black man is different. When he goes
courtin' he don't ask the father how much the girl's goin' to bring to
the hut--not he. What he does is to ask the father how much he wants
for the girl. `Five cows,' says the father `for the girl is nice an'
fat.' Well, the young buck he's got to get them five cows, and if he
takes one outer a white man's kraal that's due to his impatience--it
don't prove the system is wrong. Well, the five cows is paid over, an'
the girl goes to the young buck. As usual, the pair has children--and
the cows has calves. Maybe the husband beats his wife. What then; why,
sir, the wife takes her children and goes back to her father. `I've
come back,' she says, `and I'm going to live on them cows and calves.'
The father he can't say nothin'; 'cos why, 'cos he took those same cows
in trust for his daughter 'gainst she should come, back to him on
account of her husband's bad treatment. That's so. The _Ukolobola_ is
better'n a magistrate for keeping the peace 'twixt husband and wife.
That's why I say 'tis a good system, an' a just system."
"'Tis well known," said Amos, "that Abe Pike's got no cause to kick
against Kaffir customs, because he keeps no cattle worth havin'--nor
nothin' else, for that matter."
"By the way, Uncle Abe," I said quickly, to prevent the coming storm;
"you promised to tell us how it was you gave over searching for that
diamond mine."
"Meaning that bull elephant," said Amos Topper, still aggressively; "and
I do say this, of all the yarns I heard there's none to beat that for
downright contrariness to what is reasonable. Who ever heard of a bull
elephant rampaging round with a red diamond stuck in his forehead?"
"Humph!" grunted Abe. "If we was to believe nothin' you never yeard on
we'd be a pack o' blamed jackasses, and no mistake. Now, I tell you
that same elephant is a-tramping around now over yonder in the Addo
bush, with that same red diamond a-gleamin' in his forehead, if so be
the hide ain't growed over it."
"Why don't you get a permit from Government and shoot him, then!"
"Not me: not Abe Pike. Oh, no! I tole you how he flattened out ole
Harkins, an' stove in my partner's ribs, an' laid out another chap what
j'ined the company with a yeller horse, an' skeered off that Port
Elizabeth fellow what tried to `jump' my claim. Well, that showed this
yer walkin' diamond mine were dangerous, but, lor' bless yer, the
_schreik_ he gave me was somethin' that sent the everlastin' shivers up
an' down my backbone. I'll tell you how 'twas. When the company was
busted up I was the only chap what held shares, an' as there was no
market for 'em I calkerlated to do the prospectin' myself. So I went on
a reg'lar expedition into the bush with a new castin' o' bullets, a horn
o' powder, a tin box o' caps--them being muzzle-loading days--an' a kit
o' one sheepskin kaross, with a roll o' tobacco, five pounds o' coffee,
an' sugar, an' as much Boer meal as I could buy, with a pot an'
_cometje_. I reckoned to shoot my own meat an' pick up berries, besides
gettin' a square meal at a farmhouse now an' ag'in. So I sot out into
the Addo, an' gettin' to the middle of it, planted my kit in a holler
tree. That was a Sunday. Then I scouted aroun'. Monday I seed
nothin'. Tuesday I came on a family party o' two tigers an' their cubs.
The ole woman, steppin' on her toes, marched me off the premises, an' I
darsn't shoot for fear o' skeerin' the elephant. I had to march
back'ards, an' the thorns they jest had a picnic with my shirt, I tell
you; an' I got sich a cramp in my stummick that I couldn't hunt any more
that day. Wednesday I came on elephant spoor--fresh spoor--and follered
it for four hours without ever seein' a patch o' the animile. Thursday
I came on spoor ag'in within twenty yards o' where I camped. Yes,
sirree; that crittur had come up as near as that, and he'd stood there
for a long time, maybe watchin' me. Well, I lit out on the tracks and
follered 'em in an' out an' roun' about all through the mornin' into the
afternoon, the tracks keeping so fresh that I kep' on with the trigger
at full cock. In the evenin' the spoor led me right back to my holler
tree, and blow me if that crittur hadn't been overhauling my goods.
Yes, that's so. The kettle it were hung twenty feet from the ground.
The kaross it were peppered all over with holes, where he'd drove his
tusk through. The Boer meal were all eaten up, except for a sprinkle
here and there; and the tobacco were chewed up and spat out. I dried it
and smoked it, and it had a flavour of boots most terrible. Well, I
tell you, this made me _quei_, but when I seed, arter looking more
carefully, that this yer fool elephant were my diamon' mine itself I
jes' picked up. 'Cos, what's the loss of a few shillin's worth of
things when that diamon' 'ud bring in enough to buy up a whole street
full o' grocers' shops."
"How did you know it was the elephant you wanted?"
"How did I know! 'Cos I seed, that's how, by the size of his hoofs and
the plain writin' that he'd only one tusk, same as my bull. That's how!
Friday I up and follered ag'in afore sunrise, and I tell yer I hadn't
gone mor'n half-an-hour before I diskivered that he were follerin' me.
Yes. I were standin' to listen, and I yeard the rumbling of his
stummick. I yeard it plain--and jes' crawled along so's not to crush so
much as a dry leaf. I yeard that rumble ag'in--but blow me if I could
see him, an' I crawled an' crawled, poking the big gun afore till the
sweat it run down my back. There was the spoor and there was the
rumble, but--there was no elephant. I began to feel shivery, and looked
over my shoulder like a man does in the dark, and--by gosh!--I seed that
red diamon' gleamin' out of the leaves behind me. An' jes' below it and
on each side were two other gleamin' objects--the eyes of the bull
hisself. Well, he giv' a scream, I rolled over--an' the next I yeard he
were thundering by, smashing down the trees and yelling out most
horrible. Abe Pike didn't stop there, I tell you. He jest sneaked off,
and when he yeard the bull stand--which was plain to hear from the
stillness--Abe he stopped to. I did that."
"Why didn't you go back and shoot him?"
"Sonny, you never had a railway engine runnin' arter you, did you?
Well, you try, and then settle with yourself whether your nerves would
be worth much for a spell. No, sir; I didn't go back to shoot him, but
I found the biggest yellow-wood and I climbed up. That's what I did,
and that bull he found out. Yes, sir, he picked up my scent and he
tree'd me. But, by gum, d'ye think he'd show hisself? No, gentlemen,
he jes' kep' away in the thick o' the bush, goin' roun' and roun' an'
stopping sometimes for a blow. Once I saw the sparkle of the diamon',
when he was doin' a spell o' listenin' and watchin', and I pulled
straight at it. I hit him hard, the ole cuss, an' he fetched a yell an'
went smashin' off. The sound o' him runnin' away did me good. I loaded
up and picked up the blood-trail, and was goin' so hot on that that I'm
blowed if I didn't a'most run inter him. I were slippin' along, and
from the corner of my eye I saw the point of his tusk on my left. The
ole chap had turned on his spoor; but his tusk saved me, for I dodged
roun' a big tree and brought the gun up. D'ye think he'd charge? He
jes' slipped back by inches and stole away as silent as a hare, whiles I
had my eyes gummed on the thick cover where he'd stood. He jes' slipped
away and made a circle to come on me from the rear. He did that, and if
I hadn't edged away to see better inter the cover he'd a nabbed me--for
bymby I saw he'd gone, and on follering on the spoor I seed where he'd
turned back. I tell you that gave me the creeps, and I made off for a
small krantz near by where there's a stream. I crawled inter a cave
there and went off ter sleep, because of the tiredness in my bones; and
Saturday mornin' I woke up hungry an' stiff in the j'ints, and I laid
off for the camp. Blow me, if that blamed bull hadn't been there ag'in.
The kettle were clean gone this time, and all the other things was
smashed to nothing--so there wasn't a smell, let 'lone a mouthful. I
were that savage I jes' went hot-foot on the old boomer's spoor ag'in,
an' this time he were travellin'. He went straight on for fifteen
miles, over the ridge, inter a deep kloof--where he laid in grub--and
then set off, nose on, for another five mile towards Alicedale, where he
had a bathe in a pool. All this time I hadn't seen even the flap of his
ears, and I were still on his spoor, when I just flung myself inter a
hump o' grass and chawed on to a stick o' _biltong_. Then I went to
sleep, 'cos I couldn't keep my eyes skinned, but the morning cold woke
me in the small hours, and the fust thing I seed were a blazing eye
looking at me outer the dark. It sparkled and flickered and blinked,
with the red heart of it contractin' an' expandin'. In the drowsiness I
lay there, thinkin' 'twas the mornin' star, when I yeard the rumble of a
elephant's inside, an' I knew that ole bull were a standing over me;
maybe had been standin' there for hours waitin' for me to wake so's he
could enjoy seein' me shake.
"Afraid! Well, I think so. And the shakes went scooting up an' down my
backbone, an' my heart nearly stopped and I could skasely breathe. Then
I felt about for my gun with one hand, then with the other, and then
with each foot; but, by gosh! the wepin weren't there, an' the cole
chills were chasing each other up an' down my bones, an' the ole bull
laafed in his stummick, while that busted red diamond glowered at me. I
thought o' poor ole Harkins flattened out, an' I jest pulled the plug
outer the powder-horn, then I got out the flint an' steel, an' lay there
watching the outline of the ole cuss come clearer an' clearer out of the
darkness an' saw the shine of his wicked little eyes. He laafed in his
stummick ag'in, and the coil of his trunk came out. I got the flint
ready over the powder, and the stir of my body made him suspicious. His
big ears went out like sails, and he made a step forrard. Then I struck
with the steel, an' turned over on my back. He brought his trunk down
`ker--whack,' on my sitting place, rolling me over an' over--and when I
rubbed the dust outer my eyes I yeard him smashin' through the trees.
The puff and flame of the powder must ha' skeered him bad, but I didn't
wait beyond a second to search for my gun, and I seed the stock one side
of a tree and the barrel bent up a yard away. He had moved it away, and
were waitin' for me to wake. Then I lit out for the water an' hid away.
That was Saturday. On Sunday I took the back tracks, without a wepin
or anythin', and blow me ef that bull didn't reg'lar hunt me. He did
that, an' in the afternoon he caught me up and druv me inter a big tree.
I jes' managed to reach the first bough when, ker-blunk, he came up
ag'inst it an' nearly shook me off. By gum! the way that bull went on
was a caution. He let off steam through his nose, stamped his feet, dug
his tusk in the ground, twisted his little tail, and butted that tree
till its roots heaved up the ground. In his walk he wore down a circle
as big as a cattle kraal, smashin' all the trees down, and trampling the
leaves and branches and trunks inter a mass. And every now and then
he'd wheel round and come smash ag'inst my tree till he started the
wound in his forehead where my bullet struck, an' the blood poured down
his face. I never seed such wickedness an' temper, never, and I crawled
up to the top branch, for the sight of him made me queer. All through
that Sunday afternoon he kep' up that smash-jamble, an' in the night he
fetched up some water outer his stummick an' washed his face; then, with
that diamon' shinin' red outer the dark, he stood there, still as a
rock, keeping guard. That night I went empty in my head, an' got back
my senses in starts when I were slippin'. In the mornin' I jest gave
him my trousers.
"It was a inspiration, that's what. A flash came inter my brain from
the blue sky, an' I gave him my trousers. Lor', the scream he gave when
he fell on 'em, trampled 'em, knelt on 'em, jabbed his tusk inter 'em,
and then danced 'em outer sight through the mass o' leaves into the
yearth beneath. Then he kep' on going away and comin' back with a rush,
till I got giddy, and fin'ly jest slithered to the ground. That time he
didn't come back, and I krept away outer the Addo bush, living on roots
and leaves like a animile. That's so. I got on a Wednesday to a Kaffir
clearing, most like a wild beast, all kivered with ticks and sores."
"And what became of the diamond?"
"Well, the Abe Pike Diamon' Mining Company went to smash. That
diamond's still in the Addo bush, and if any o' you would like to float
the company I'm not sure but I wouldn't jine you again. I guess that
ole bull's a hundred an' fifty years old, an' maybe he's not so blamed
active. So long!"