Chapter One.
"If we could get hold of one of these mines between us, we would show
them how to work it, I guess. We wouldn't fool around the camp trying
to float a company and let a lot of local men into the thing. We'd go
straight home and give the British public a turn. Couldn't you fancy
yourself as the South African millionnaire chairman of the Great Diamond
Mining Company, with a house in Belgrave Square, a country house with a
blessed big park round it, the favourite for the Derby in training at
Newmarket, and the best of everything that money could buy, eh, Timson?"
"Don't, Hardman, don't! I can't bear to think of it. The chances some
of 'em here have had and the way they have thrown 'em away! If I had
only been in their place I'd have done something for myself, but I came
here too late."
"Too late be blowed! there are as good fish in the sea as ever came out,
and there are as rich mines lying unworked and undisturbed as any that
have been found, that's my opinion. How do we know that there is not
another mine as rich as Kimberley on which the grass and bush are
growing, and the spring bucks are playing? We may be sitting on just
such a mine now, for all you know."
"By Jove! it's enough to make a fellow wild when he thinks of the
fortune that may be waiting for him to be picked up; but what's the good
of thinking of it? No one has found a diamond mine that would pay to
work since Kimberley was opened."
"What of that? They have found a dozen places such as we have seen
to-day, where there are diamonds in small quantities. Mark my words:
sooner or later they will drop on to a place which will make the
Kimberley mine pretty sick, and if we could only get hold of such a
mine, you with your knowledge of business and the City of London, and
me--well, I know my way about--what couldn't we do with it?"
As he spoke, Mr Bill Hardman glanced at his companion, and an ominous
smile played across his swarthy face. His words had evidently told with
a good deal of effect.
The two men were on their way home from an expedition from Kimberley, to
a mining camp in the Orange Free State. So it was not surprising that
as they smoked their pipes under the shade of their Cape cart, after an
excellent luncheon, their conversation should turn to the topic which in
Griqualand West exercised men's minds most, diamonds and diamond mining.
Bill Hardman was about forty-five, and there was something about him
which suggested that he had knocked about the world a good deal. He was
not a bad-looking man, but every now and then an expression came into
his face which gave one an unpleasant impression, and suggested that he
might be rather dangerous, either as a friend or an enemy. For years he
had been a well-known character on the Diamond Fields, and there were
many stories told about him which bore witness rather to his astuteness,
than to his integrity. He called himself a digger, but no one could
remember his owning a claim or doing any work. The calling to which he
devoted himself in the early days of the Fields was that of an exponent
of faro, roulette, poker, and other games, more or less of chance.
Afterwards, when what was called the company mania broke out, rotten
scrip and a rigged share market gave him more scope for speculation, and
he became a comparatively respectable member of society. But
notwithstanding his respectability, many of those who knew most about
him would have considered that Mr Timson was not very prudent in
choosing him for a companion.
The latter was a young man of about twenty-five; his get-up, sleek,
fresh-complexioned face and plump figure had a very English look, and he
seemed as if he would be far more at home eating at a luncheon bar in
the City, than picnicking on the South African veldt. Though he had not
been very long in South Africa and knew little of the country, he
believed very much in himself and in his business knowledge, and had a
very great contempt for the people he found himself amongst. He had
brought out a few thousand pounds with him and had done very well in his
speculations, doubling his capital again and again, which was not
difficult in those days of wild speculation, when every investment was
going up. About that time people on the Diamond Fields had gone mad on
the subject of new mines, even old hands who had seen place after place
reported to be very rich turn out a failure, were again taking the fever
for prospecting, while men who had just come out from home were simply
delirious with it. To a new hand there is a singular charm in the idea
of a new mine, and Mr Timson found the fascination of this form of
speculation simply irresistible. Mr Hardman also had turned his
attention to prospecting, and on this common interest the two men had
struck up a very intimate acquaintanceship.
"Yes," said Hardman, after they had smoked in silence for some time,
"the place we saw to-day may be payable, but there ain't much to be done
with it. What one wants is to get on to a mine on private property,
with no reservation of minerals to the Crown, so that one could get the
whole mine into one's hands."
"Fancy that, now, buying a farm for a few hundreds on which there might
be a mine worth millions and millions. But we have got to find it, and
without the owner or any one else knowing anything about it!" said Mr
Timson, as much to himself as to his companion.
"Right you are, Smarty! we have got to do that. It's well enough to
talk as one smokes one's pipe; but it's a hundred to one, one never gets
such a chance. For all that, mind you, the chance may come; that's what
living in a mining country means. There is always the hope of a big
fortune for the man who knows how to make the most of his luck."
Mr Timson listened to the other, and began to indulge in a delicious
day-dream of what he would do, and how he would live if he were the
owner of a diamond mine, with hundreds of pounds a day to spend. If it
were only possible, he thought--possible! it was possible, he declared
to himself, as he thought how fortunate he had been already. He was
half asleep and half awake when he was woke up by hearing a strange
voice inquiring the way to Pneil, a digging on the Vaal River some
twenty-five miles off. The new-comer, who was on foot, was a tall man
with a long beard; he was dressed in tattered clothes, and had on an old
hat which had seen many years' service. He looked travel-worn and
tired; as Timson looked at him, he noticed a peculiar scar on his face
and a curious droop in one eyelid.
Hardman told him the distance. "It's a long stretch and a sandy road;
you had better sit down and take a drink," he added, pouring some beer
out into a glass as he spoke.
"It's a long time since I had a glass of beer," the stranger said as he
emptied the glass.
"How's that? been sworn off?" asked Hardman.
"No, nor much need to. I've been living where you don't get many
chances of taking too much to drink; a hundred miles beyond the Tati
Gold-Fields. I've tramped it down and had a pretty hard time of it."
"Well, you'd better take a rest and have something to eat," said
Hardman, as he pushed a plate and some cold meat towards the stranger,
who, without any more pressing, accepted the other's hospitality, and
after he had made a good meal, filled his pipe and smoked for some time
without joining in the conversation, the other two going on talking
about diamonds and new mines.
At last he broke in: "Have they worked out the New Rush, the Colesberg
Kopje, as they called it?"
"Colesberg Kopje, did you say? Why, that's the Kimberley mine. No,
it's not worked out and won't be in our time," answered Hardman.
"You mean they have abandoned it 'cause they have found a richer place?"
"Abandoned it! Not they; there is no place one third as rich as
Kimberley mine!"
"Ain't there though, mate; you mean they haven't found one yet," said
the stranger. "Well, I'd have thought some one would have tumbled on to
it by this time!" he added, more to himself than to the others, though
Mr Timson heard him and pricked up his ears.
"I suppose they don't go prospecting much now-a-days?" the stranger
asked after a second or two.
"There is a bit of it being done just now," replied Hardman; "but they
haven't come across a second Kimberley yet."
"So they go out prospecting still. Well, I suppose men will always keep
on at that game. I have done a good lot of it in my time. I'd have
been a happy man with a home of my own instead of the miserable devil I
am now if I had only let it alone."
"So you broke yourself and lost your money prospecting! Well, others
have done pretty much the same," said Hardman.
"Lost my money! No, I found as rich a place as you want to come across
and got plenty of diamonds, but they cost me dear."
"You found as rich a place as one wants to come across, did you?" said
Mr Timson, who was all attention. "Whereabouts was that, now?"
The stranger did not answer his question, and for some time sat wrapped
in his thoughts, which seemed to be gloomy enough. Then, with the air
of one who could only get relief by telling his story, he spoke: "I say
that prospecting trip cost me dear, and so you will say when you have
heard my story. I must tell it, though it's not the sort of tale most
men would pan out to two strangers; but I must speak out, for I have
done nothing but think over this for eight years, and feel that I should
be easier in my mind for making a clean breast of it to some one or the
other before I die. Prospecting! well, I've done about as much of
prospecting as any man. They called me the Demon Prospector in
Australia and New Zealand, and well they might, for I have found three
payable gold-fields in my time. I did more good to others than to
myself, though, for I could never stop in one place long, and would
often turn my back upon a certainty to wander away after that
wonderfully rich gold field I was always dreaming of. Still I did not
do so badly, and before I came over to this country I had made a little
money. And I had what was better than money--a home of my own and a
wife, not the sort of wife many a digger with his belt full of gold-dust
picked up in those days, but an English girl who had not been long out
from home. She had come out with her father, who had collected the
little money he had, and gone to try for a fortune in the land of gold.
He lost his money, as a new chum will lose his money, and died leaving
her alone. I don't believe she only married me for a home; once she
really cared for me--but you find this yarn a bit long, don't you?" he
said, looking at Mr Timson, who was not in the slightest degree
interested in his domestic history.
"About the place where you found all those diamonds, where was that?"
said the latter.
"Let him _rip_ and he will come round to it; don't pump him too much or
you'll spoil a good thing," whispered Hardman. "Go on, mate," he added,
"I like to hear you."
"Well, we were married in Sydney a few months after her father died, and
we lived there for a bit, when I heard of the Diamond Fields breaking
out in this country, and nothing would do for me but I must come over
here. We got up here some months before the dry diggings were found,
and I tried my luck at the river where all the diggers were then. I
chose Pneil, where there were a good many men doing fairly well. I put
up a stone shanty amongst the trees near the river, and we were fairly
comfortable and happy enough. I found pretty well, and began to believe
that my old restless spirit had left me, for I didn't seem to want to go
prospecting, but was willing enough to stop on there. After a bit the
dry diggings were found and many of the diggers left the river for them,
but still I stayed on at Pneil. Then I heard of the New Rush being
opened, and how men were finding sackfuls of diamonds. I went over and
saw the new diggings, and after that I could not be contented at the
river. I had noticed the lay of the ground of the dry diggings, and I
felt sure that there must be lots of spots where diamonds were to be
found in quantities. Then the old instinct came over me and I longed to
go off prospecting. At last I felt I could stay where I was no longer.
My wife didn't like my leaving her by herself, for the other women at
Pneil were not much company for her, and she had very few friends.
About the only person she seemed to care to speak to was a man who had
come over with us from Australia, who was staying at the other side of
the river helping to keep a canteen. He was an educated man, one of the
broken-down gentleman kind, and could make himself agreeable enough, but
I never liked him very much. He was no good and would never do any
honest work. He had come to grief in the old country by gambling, and
was just turning from a pigeon into a rook, but there was something
about him that women found very fascinating. Well, to cut my story
short, I went off prospecting. I would stay away a week or so at a
time. Looking back now it seems to me that after the first time my wife
didn't seem to mind my going so much. At last, after trying in one
place and then another, I did find the sort of place I was looking for.
It was out yonder," said the prospector, as he stretched out his brown
hand and pointed in the direction of a ridge of hills in the far
distance. Mr Timson's eyes glistened with excitement. He had never
heard of any diamond mine being found in that direction.
"Yes, sir," continued the stranger, "if the New Rush is as rich as the
place I found, it is a deal better than I ever heard it was. I was
working out yonder myself, but I found diamonds every day. I kept
putting off going back to get Kaffirs to work for me, for I didn't like
the idea of the secret of the place being let out, and half thought I
might keep it all to myself. After about a month I had over two hundred
carats of smaller diamonds, besides a thirty, a fifty, and a sixty carat
stone. Then I thought it was about time to go back and see the missis
again and tell her my luck, sell my diamonds and get some Kaffirs to
work for me. I cannot tell how I felt as I tramped back to the river.
At last I had struck something really rich and made my fortune. How the
boys would wake up when they heard, as they sooner or later would, I
suppose, that I had found a place twice as rich as the famous New Rush.
But diamonds would be down to nothing at all when my secret was known
and people knew how plentiful they were if you only looked for them in
the right place, so I determined to keep it quiet until I had made my
fortune, which would not take me long, I thought. Then I would be able
to take my missis home to England, and she would live the life she was
fit for and be as fine a lady as any of 'em at home.
"As soon as I got to Klip Drift I sold my diamonds. I got about five
thousand pounds for them. Then I went into a canteen to get a drink.
There were one or two men there who knew me, and I thought that they
stared at me rather oddly. `Where's the Count?' I asked the man behind
the bar, for that was the name they called the broken-down gentleman
chap I told you of, and it was the bar he kept.
"`Don't you know about it then?' asked one man, and the others stared at
me very queerly.
"`Know about it? about what?' I asked.
"`Oh nothing; only he has cleared,' the men answered.
"The men looked at me, I thought, as if they expected me to break my
heart about the Count's having cleared, and I couldn't make out their
manner at all. I said I was off across the river to see the missis, and
left the place. A man I knew pretty well followed me and put his hand
on my shoulder. `It's no good going across, for you won't find the
missis there,' he said. `Where is she?' I asked. `She has cleared,
too; gone off with the Count,' was his answer. I turned round on him,
half inclined to knock him down to show him I didn't like that kind of
joke, but there was something in his face which told me that he wasn't
joking; then he told me that it had been going on for a long time, and
that every one had been talking about it, and about a week ago two or
three saw them start off together, `and a good job for me, he told me,
was what most of them said.' At first I wouldn't believe it, but it was
true, though: she was gone, and I began to see how I had fooled away my
happiness by leaving my wife to go prospecting and letting that damned
scoundrel steal her from me. It wasn't many hours after I heard the
news that I was off on their track. They had gone up north to some
gold-fields which broke out about then. It was some time before I came
up with them, for they kept dodging about, first living in one place and
then in another, and once or twice I was at fault and could hear nothing
of them. At last I got to a new camp on the gold-fields where I heard
the Count was; he had started in at his old trade, gambling, and was
keeping a faro bank. I had not been many minutes at the hotel before I
heard all the boys talking about him and the run of luck he had struck.
Then they began to talk of the pretty woman he had with him; you can
guess that made me feel wild. I don't know how I behaved that night,
but I stopped in the bar of the hotel drinking and longing for the time
to come when I had planned to have my revenge.
"I was the last to go to bed, and then I did not sleep, but waited till
about three o'clock, when I knew the camp would be asleep. Then I stole
out and walked along the creek to a canvas house which had been pointed
out to me as the one they lived in. The place was quiet enough; I can
remember now how a dog tied up to a waggon barked at me and how savage I
felt with it, and how I laughed to myself as I knocked it over with a
stone I hurled at it. When I got to the house I looked through the
window. I saw them, they were asleep. I had a bowie knife on me, and I
cut the rope with which the door was tied. No--I can't tell you the
rest."
"Well, you killed him; he's injured you, but it's rough killing a man
when he's asleep," said Bill Hardman.
"Him! I killed them," said the prospector. "When she woke up and saw
what I had done to him, she screamed and cursed at me; the devil came
into me, and I stabbed her again and again. It would have been better
for me if I had been caught red-handed, and strung up, as I should have
been then and there; but I got away. Since then I have never got the
sight I saw before I rushed out of their place into the open out of my
head. I have hardly seen a white man to speak to since that day, for I
wandered away up country and have lived amongst Kaffirs; but now I feel
I must tell it to some one."
"Well, and now what are you going to do? Go back and work at the place
you prospected?" asked Hardman.
"Work at the place! What good are diamonds and money to me? No, I have
not come back for that. I have come back to see the place where we were
happy together once before I got the prospecting fever and left her, and
then--well, what should a man do who has no hope and is sick of life and
not afraid of finishing it? There, I have told you my story, and now I
will say good-day, and good luck to you. If it goes against your
conscience not to tell the police that a man has confessed murder to
you, for I suppose there are police on the fields now, tell on, and make
a clean breast of it."
Having finished speaking he got up to walk away. "Stop, don't go yet,
sit down and have a talk; tell us more about the place where you found
those diamonds. Can you tell us exactly where it was?" said Timson, his
voice quavering with excitement, for all the time the prospector had
been telling the conclusion of his story he had been thinking of the
wonderful diamond mine the other had spoken of.
"Where is the place you said you found so well at?" he added as the
stranger sat down and lit his pipe again.
"What! you want to strike my luck, do you? I wouldn't put a pick in
there again for all the diamonds there are in the coast of the earth."
"Well, if you don't like to work the place yourself, it seems a pity
that no one else should," said Timson, who, though he had some other
weaknesses, was not superstitious. "You see, I don't believe much in
luck, except the luck of getting hold of a good thing when you know how
to work it."
"Look here, mate, I am an old digger, and it goes agin' my ideas of
right to try and worm out another digger's secret; but if you let us
into this thing, we will work it with you fair and square," said
Hardman.
"I don't want you to work it with me or for me, but I don't mind telling
you where it is. See here," said the prospector, pointing in the
direction of a distant range of mountains towards which he had been
gazing for some time, "do you see that little hump-backed hill standing
out by itself? Well, it's about four hundred yards to the north of it.
You will see my old working still, I should say. Now, mates, I am off
to Pneil, for I want to see the old place again, and then--"
"Stop, let us talk it over. You had better work the place with us,"
said Hardman; "we will forget all about what you have told us, or try
to."
The stranger's only answer was to wish them good luck at their
prospecting, and refusing to listen to Hardman's persuasions, he started
off on his lonely walk.
"I don't like letting him go off in that state of mind; he means
finishing himself, I saw it in his face, I have seen men look like that
before," said Hardman as he watched the tall figure striding over the
long flat into the distance.
"Certainly one pities him; but if what he has told us is true, life
can't be much comfort to him, and it's just as well, if he is going to
do it, that he should kill himself before he lets out to any one about
that place. What do you think of that part of the story; do you believe
it?" answered Mr Timson.
"Believe it! well, I don't know. It's a queer story, but I ain't one of
those sharps who always disbelieve any story that's a bit out of the
common. I believe it well enough to mean finding out whether or no it's
true. What do you say?"
"Ah! that's just what I think. It may be true, and if it is true--"
"If it is true, or near true, we are in a pretty big thing, for the
farms out there ain't on Crown land, and there is no reservation of
minerals. Of course we must keep what we have heard quiet and try and
learn a bit more. There's millions who wouldn't believe the yarn we
have heard, but I ain't one of 'em. If you ask me what I think, well, I
think it's true," said Hardman, and then he shouted to his Kaffir to
outspan the horses so that they could continue their journey to
Kimberley. All the way they talked of the strange story they had heard,
and the more they talked of it the more hopeful Mr Timson began to
grow, and the more splendid were the castles in the air which he built
on the foundation of the wonderful diamond mine he was to acquire a part
possession of.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter Two.
A few days after their conversation with the prospector, Messrs. Hardman
and Timson were again on a prospecting expedition. This time they had
sought the prospector's hump-backed hill, and they had come to it after
a journey of about forty miles. Sure enough, about two hundred yards
north of it, they found marks of old working and a hole which was almost
filled up by sand. Mr Timson's excitement before he reached the spot
had begun to cool a good deal. Perhaps there was nothing in the tale he
had heard. The man might have been mad, or have been hoaxing him, or
exaggerating, he kept thinking to himself. Bill Hardman had not taken
much trouble to reassure him. All he said was that it was good enough
to look into, though it was long odds against its being as good as they
hoped, and he professed to be quite prepared to find their trip turn out
to be waste of time, though at the same time something seemed to tell
him to try the place. They had come out in an ox waggon, professedly on
a shooting trip, and had brought with them a small washing machine,
picks, shovels and other tools for digging and prospecting; they had
also taken out two or three Kaffirs who were accustomed to work in the
mine.
The sight of the old workings had a considerable effect in raising the
hopes of Mr Timson.
"That bears him out, anyhow!" said Hardman; "it seems to be the sort of
hole a man working by himself could make in a month."
"How soon shall we know whether it is any good?" asked Timson.
"Working on the small scale as we shall, it may take us days before we
find a diamond, however rich it may be. We will first get some twenty
loads of ground out and then we will wash. There is no house near here,
and we might work for six months without being disturbed, so we needn't
fear that, though if the man who owns the farm found we were
prospecting, he'd pretty quick get an interdict, as those cursed lawyers
call it, from the High Court and clear us off," answered the other.
In a very short time work began, Bill Hardman opening a bottle of
champagne to drink `luck' to the venture, as the first pick was put into
the ground. There is a strange excitement in working in new ground
which is very fascinating to any one of a speculative turn. Mr Timson
thought of the Scripture story of the man who knew of treasure hid in a
field, and sold all he had to purchase that field. Let him but once
satisfy himself that there was a diamond mine under his feet and he
would show no want of enterprise in making the best use of his
knowledge. Hardman said very little. When a few days' work would tell
them what they wanted to know, it was no good prophesying. He professed
to like the look of the ground, it reminded him of the top stuff in the
Kimberley mine, and Mr Timson was a good deal impressed with his
favourable opinion. But the hours passed very slowly, and Mr Timson
kept fidgeting about, looking into the shaft the boys were digging, and
sorting handfuls of the earth they had thrown out, as if he expected
that diamonds ought to be found every minute, much to the amusement of
his companion, who pointed out that, however rich the place might be,
they were likely enough to find nothing before they washed the ground.
Hour after hour the Kaffirs worked on stolidly, though lazily, and as
the shaft that they were sinking deepened, Timson's spirits began to
sink. He was breaking up a lump of ground when he heard a shout from
Hardman--
"We've found here a diamond! look at it! It's true--that yarn we heard
was true. It's a ten-carat stone! I saw it glisten as Tom picked down
some ground. Tom would have jumped it if I had not been too quick.
Wouldn't you, you black thief?"
"Nay, boss," said the Kaffir, grinning and showing his white teeth, "the
boss is a good boss and I'd no jump his diamond."
Timson looked at the diamond, a white stone of about ten carats in
weight, and he felt that his fortune was made. The Kaffirs talked to
each other in their own language about the diamond. "They think it is a
rich place and there will be lots of diamonds for them to steal," said
Hardman.
The next day another diamond was found in the picking, and Mr Timson
began to feel most hopeful as to what the result of washing the stuff
would be.
"If what we know is found out, we shall never be able to buy at a
reasonable price," he said, as they smoked their pipes after supper on
the night before the day on which they intended to wash.
"Nobody does as yet, and even we don't know much," said Hardman; "wait
till we have washed."
Their washing machine was a small one, only able to get through about
thirty loads of ground a day. In the afternoon they began to take out
of the machine the heavy deposit which had been left after the earth and
lighter gravel had been washed away. Hardman filled a sieve with this
stuff, and worked it up and down in a tub of water so that the action of
the water should work the diamonds to the bottom of the sieve.
"Now, what luck?" he said, as he turned the sieve upside down on the
sorting-table, at which Timson had taken his position. It was an
exciting moment, for the stuff on the table was the result of a good
many loads of ground, and if the place was any good, they might hope to
find several diamonds in it. Mr Timson trembled with excitement.
There was a second or two of suspense. Then he saw one diamond, then
another, and another, and Hardman, who was looking over his shoulder,
found two or three more. The next sieveful was equally good, and the
result of the wash up was that the ground was proved to be marvellously
rich. After that Timson suggested that they had better sink in some
other place and find out how large the mine was, but Hardman did not
agree to this. They had found out enough to know that whoever owned the
farm owned a fortune, and they had better make the best use of their
information and try to purchase the farm from its present owner before
any one else found out what they knew. So the machinery and tools were
packed up in their waggon, and the party started back again to
Kimberley.
Hardman undertook to find out about the land where the mine was
situated, and until he could obtain that information, Mr Timson was to
take care not to breathe one word of their secret. It was an exciting
time for the latter gentleman. He thought to himself that perhaps they
had been watched by some one who would claim a share in their prize, or
give information to others who might bid against them for the land, or
perhaps the man who owned it might come across the traces of the fresh
working and that might arouse his suspicions. Come what might, thought
Mr Timson, he would become the part owner of that wonderful mine. So
far as they could judge, it was of greater extent than the Kimberley
mine, and the work they had done made it appear to be three times as
rich. If he could purchase the farm for a small sum, all the better,
but he would not be afraid of risking all he had to get possession of
it. Of the prospector, he could hear no more. He had probably wandered
away into the veldt and destroyed himself. Mr Timson did not care much
what might have happened to him so long as he did not tell his story, or
rather, so much of it as related to the diamond mine, to any one else.
It took Hardman about two days to obtain the information he required.
It was fairly satisfactory, and he came to his friend in very good
spirits. "It's the Farm Boschfontein, there is no doubt about that, and
it belongs to a Dutchman, by name Ziederman; and it's the worst farm in
the province, I am told," he said, coming up to Timson, who was standing
on the stoep of the hotel, and taking him on one side.
"Ziederman! where does he live, and what kind of a man is he?"
"Well, he is a pretty crude sort of a Dutchman, and his house is on the
farm, about an hour's drive from the mine. If we go over and see him,
and tell him that we think of keeping a store where the road runs past
it, and want to stock the farm, he will think he has got hold of two
fools, and be glad to sell," was the other's answer.
The next day Messrs. Hardman and Timson started off to interview Mr
Ziederman, the unconscious owner (they hoped) of the mine. The
Boschfontein homestead where he lived was one of those low, whitewashed
mud houses with which travellers in South Africa are so familiar. Mr
Timson could see it miles away across the long flat over which they were
driving. It was a poverty-stricken looking place, and as they neared
the house there was no sign of any stock about.
"Looks as if Boschfontein had about broke him," said Hardman; "he'll be
glad to sell, you bet!"
Mr Timson felt that in an hour or so he would know his fate, and as he
gazed at the mean-looking Dutch farm-house, visions came before him of
the house in London and the country place he would soon be the owner of.
"Wonder how Hardman will do as a man of property? He's a smart chip,
but not quite one of us," he thought to himself. As they came near to
the house they saw Mr Ziederman sitting on a chair on the stoep of the
house, staring after the manner of a Dutch boer into the far distance at
nothing at all. When their cart drove up he turned round and stared at
it, but no gleam of intelligence came into his face; he evidently was,
so Mr Timson thought, a very crude specimen of the Dutchman. It would
be very tedious to narrate all the conversation which took place after
the two had got out of their cart, and had shaken the grimy, flabby hand
which Mr Ziederman held out to them. Gradually, and with very much
caution, Mr Hardman approached the subject of the purchase of the farm.
Would Mr Ziederman care to sell it? they wished to set up a store and
canteen, and would like to have the farm for keeping stock on, was the
question which, after much fencing, he asked.
"Yes, I will sell the farm. Ten thousand pounds, and you may have
Boschfontein, but for not one dollar less," answered Mr Ziederman,
looking as stolid as ever.
"Ten thousand pounds, mein herr! you are joking. The farm is not worth
one twentieth part of that," said Hardman.
Mr Timson tried to look as if he were more surprised than disappointed.
"Never mind, the farm is worth more than that. I know something that
you perhaps know and perhaps don't know. There are diamonds on my
farm."
Mr Timson began to feel that all his hopes were going to be dashed to
the ground.
"Diamonds, mein herr! there are no diamonds out in this direction, and
me and my partner don't want to have anything to do with diamonds, they
ain't in our line; we want to keep a store and raise stock."
"Then you don't want to buy the Farm Boschfontein, because the Farm
Boschfontein has diamonds," answered Ziederman. "See here, I will show
you something," he added, as he went into his house and came out with
something in his hand; "see what my herd boy found near the _kopje_
yonder," he said as he pointed in the direction of the mine. It was a
ten-carat white diamond he had in his hand, and one of the partners felt
something out of heart when he saw it. It was useless to try and
persuade Ziederman that the stone was not a diamond.
"Yes, I always knew there were some diamonds on my farm, but I would not
say anything about them, for I knew diamonds bring English diggers on
one's farm; but I said to myself, `If I ever sell Boschfontein I will
get plenty of money for it.' I want ten thousand pounds!" he said as he
lit his pipe again, looking as if he did not care whether he sold the
farm or no. "If you like to buy it for the money, well; if not, I will
have it prospected, and then I will sell it for what it will bring."
Hardman touched Timson on the shoulder and they walked away from the
house together. "See here," he said, when they were out of hearing of
Ziederman, who sat smoking with a placid expression on his face, "what
can we do? I can only raise two thousand pounds. I don't like to let
the thing slip from me, though, and once let him have the farm
prospected and find out how rich it is, what we know is worth nothing to
us."
"Maybe he will take less," said Mr Timson.
Very little could be got out of the boer. Somehow or the other he
seemed to have hit upon ten thousand pounds as the price the farm was
worth, and he would take no less.
Then the two had another conversation. Curiously enough Timson could
just raise eight thousand pounds, Mr Hardman had two. After all,
thought Mr Timson to himself, he would have four-fifths of the mine
instead of only one-half, so perhaps it would be all the better for him
that Ziederman had stuck out for his price. At last, after much
conversation, the bargain was struck and they drove home, it having been
agreed that Ziederman should come into Kimberley a few days afterwards,
and having given transfer of the farm, receive the ten thousand pounds.
"Well, we are going our piles on it, eh, partner?" said Hardman as they
drove back to Kimberley; "but I don't mind owning that I feel pretty
confident. Lord! I am sorry for the Kimberley people; it will just
about bust up their mine when we open ours."
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Chapter Three.
Mr Ziederman arrived at Kimberley on the appointed day. Transfer was
duly given, and the ten thousand pounds were paid over to him. Timson
could not help feeling rather a twinge as he parted with his money. It
did not leave him more than a few hundred pounds, still he was very
pleased with his bargain; he had bought the farm, he hoped, for very
much less than one hundredth of its value, and had got the best of Mr
Hardman, who would only have a fifth share. The next day the news was
all over the camp. It created a good deal of excitement, and at eleven
in the forenoon, an hour when splits and other drinks, long and short,
are in much request, quite a crowd of the leading citizens of Kimberley
dropped into the bar of the Queen's Hotel, where Mr Timson was to be
found at that hour, reading the local morning paper and criticising the
manners and customs of the place. On this occasion there was a look of
unusual importance about him, and he was laying down the law more
authoritatively than he generally did. He had just been discussing the
value of claims in the Kimberley mine, and chuckling to himself as he
thought how startled the claimholders would be when they heard of his
discovery.
"Well, Mr Timson, so I hear you have been speculating in farms," said a
man who was standing at the bar.
"I don't know why people should interest themselves in my affairs so
much," answered Timson; "but I don't mind owning that I have bought a
farm called Boschfontein."
"You're going to make your fortune farming?" said the first speaker, a
digger who had dropped in on his way from the mine to get a drink and to
interview Timson.
"I don't know about farming, but I don't think I shall do so badly with
Boschfontein," answered Timson, who, now that he owned the property,
thought there was no reason why he should not have the pleasure of
bragging about his wonderfully good bargain. He noticed that his
listeners were not impressed, there was something like a smile on their
faces.
"How much did you give Bill Hardman for Boschfontein?" asked the first
speaker.
"Bill Hardman! I never bought from Bill Hardman, I bought with him, he
has a small share in the speculation. So he has been telling you about
it, has he? Well, I suppose he won't make less than four or five
hundred thousand pounds, though he only has one-fifth of it. Yes, you
may laugh, but you won't laugh when the place up there is shut up, as it
will be when I work the diamond mine on Boschfontein."
"Here, barman, drinks; open some champagne for Mr Timson; he has gone
in for a spec with Bill Hardman, and they have got a diamond mine on
Boschfontein which will shut the Kimberley mine," cried the first
speaker.
Mr Timson was no admirer of the prevailing custom, a survival from the
early days of the diamond-digging, which demanded that good fortune of
any sort should be celebrated by a reckless expenditure in champagne.
Still he felt that the occasion was a special one, and after having in
vain tried to catch the barman's eye, and prevent him opening more than
one bottle, he made no remonstrance. "Well, gentlemen, we will drink to
the health of the Boschfontein mine," he said, "though I am afraid it
will prove rather a bad business for some of my friends here. Three
carats of diamonds to a load is a pretty good average, and the mine is
as big as Kimberley; it will revolutionise diamond mining, our mine
will."
"Bill Hardman found that mine, I'd bet," said another man who had just
come in and stood listening to Timson. "Why, Boschfontein's looking up.
It wasn't as rich as that last time."
"Look here," said the digger, taking up a dice-box which lay on the bar,
"we will throw for this wine, and Mr Timson shall stand out. No, it's
a shame letting him in, he has been let in enough. How much did you pay
for Boschfontein?"
"What do you mean?" asked Timson, who began to feel nervous and
uncomfortable. "Let in! some of you will only wish that you had been
let in in the same way when we begin to work the new mine. Bill Hardman
ain't the sort of man to be taken in so easy." Then he told them how he
had learnt the secret about the mine and became possessed of the Farm
Boschfontein.
The others listened to every word of his narrative, no one ordered
drinks nor even lifted their glasses to their mouths while he spoke.
When he had told them all, and described the finding of the diamonds and
the subsequent purchase of the farm Boschfontein, there was a burst of
noise, every one beginning to shout or laugh, expressing with much
vigour of language their admiration for the smartness of Bill.
"Look here, what was the prospector like? wasn't he a tall man with a
long beard, and a scar across the left side of his face, and a droop in
one eye?" asked the digger.
"Yes, that's the man," answered Timson.
"I'd have sworn it; it's Tom Raven; he was in camp the other day. Now,
look here, young man, you'd better try and find your friend, Bill
Hardman, not that there's much chance of your coming across him; now
that they have got your money they'd be off. I dare say you never heard
of Raven's Rush, that was on Boschfontein. There isn't a show of a mine
there; but Tom Raven and Bill Hardman, who have always been more or less
partners, won it at cards off a Dutchman. It's about as bad a farm as
there is in the country; but they meant working it off somehow, so they
started a mine there, any one to have a claim for two pounds down. It
took for a bit; but as no one could find diamonds there except Bill and
Tom Raven, people cooled off it, and there was some talk of starting a
prosecution for fraud, as some one split as to where they got the
diamonds from they found there, and that's why Raven, against whom there
was most of a case, cleared off. Ziederman is a long, stolid-looking
Dutchman; he is not such a fool as he looks, is that Dutchman--`Slim
Pete' they call him--he has always been more or less in with the firm of
Hardman and Raven."
"Look here, you're trying to fool me, ain't you? You don't mean to tell
me that the man who told me how his wife ran away and how he killed her
wasn't genuine!" said Timson.
"Genuine! it was a pretty bit of play-acting, made up by the two of 'em.
Tom was always clever at a yarn."
Mr Timson did not say another word. Something seemed to tell him that
the suspicions of the others were well founded; anyhow he would
interview his partner and do his best to get back some of his money.
However, Hardman was not so easily to be found. He was not at the hotel
where he boarded, nor at the billiard-room he usually patronised, nor at
any of his other haunts, and none of his associates had seen him. All
day long Mr Timson was making fruitless inquiries; but though he could
hear nothing about Hardman, every one could tell him a good deal about
the Farm Boschfontein. Every one laughed when they heard his story, and
with the exception of one or two men who had formed little plans for the
disposal of his fortune, no one sympathised very much with him. There
was no doubt about it that he had a case against Mr Hardman and the men
who helped to swindle him; but he might just as well have had a case
against the man in the moon. For some time Mr Timson cherished a faint
hope that the mine might be a genuine one, so he spent a little more
money in having it well tested. But the charm was gone when Mr Hardman
had vanished. There was no appearance of diamond bearing ground on the
Farm Boschfontein, so experts declared; and what was more to the point,
there was no appearance of diamonds.
Mr Timson is still the owner of the property, and has not found it very
remunerative. The only consolation he has is, that many of the men who
laughed at him when he made his unfortunate purchase, invested their
money in speculations which seemed at the time very hopeful, but
resulted in their becoming the owners of nicely-engraved diamond-mining
scrip which, though useful for papering a spare room with, is now even
less marketable than that desirable property, the Farm Boschfontein.
Story 5.