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قراءة كتاب A Rip Van Winkle Of The Kalahari And Other Tales of South-West Africa
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A Rip Van Winkle Of The Kalahari And Other Tales of South-West Africa
away at the hollow shin-bone of a buck that served him as a pipe, as a broad hint that his tobacco was finished; "I know not the land of these dogs of Bushmen. If it were in my own land now! But that is far away!"
I laughed, for by his manner of saying it, he conveyed the impression that there he could pick up diamonds under every bush.
"Dogs they may be, Inyati," I answered him, "but they are dogs with keen eyes; and yet they cannot find the stones I seek, and that I know, too, are not far away!" He stood, nodding gravely at my words, and still fidgeting with his bone pipe; a splendid figure of a man, nude except for his leopard-skin loin-cloth, his skin clear and glossy, of a golden-brown for he was no darker than, but entirely different from, the yellow Hottentots.
"Master," said he; "what magic will my master make with the little bright stones, should he find them?"
"No magic, Inyati," said I, "but in my country, across the great water, these things are worth many muskets, cattle aye, and even wives!"
"That may be, my master," he replied, "but magic they are; and hide themselves when dogs such as these Bushmen search for them. Still, master, we will wait and see what they bring to-night; though well I know that they will come back with empty hands as empty as is this my pipe!"
I could not help laughing at the way in which he had brought the subject of his finished tobacco to my notice, and in a fit of unwonted generosity I not only gave him a span of tobacco, but also a cheap pipe from my "trade" goods.
Poor chap, it was the first he had ever had, for his shin-bone had served him hitherto, and his delight was unmistakable. An hour later I saw him still at his everlasting polishing, and with the new pipe in full blast; and now he was crooning not only its praises, but my own. Half his improvised song was unintelligible to me, but I understood enough to learn that when the "dogs of Bushmen" had failed, he, Inyati "The Snake" would lead me to a land where there were magic stones in abundance, and by means of which, I gathered, we should both obtain wives galore!
I laughed at the poor chap's foolish bombast, as I thought it; but I have often wondered since whether the gift of that cheap pipe did not, after all, alter the whole of my life.
For that evening, sure enough, the Bushmen again returned empty-handed, and acting on my former resolve, I called my own followers together, and told them to make ready to return to Walfisch Bay. Later, as I sat in my tent writing up my diary by the light of a feeble candle, and with the gloomiest of thoughts for company, I heard Inyati's voice outside. "Master," he said, in a low tone but little above a whisper, "the dogs are full of meat, and sleeping; and there is that which I would show thee."
Without feeling much interest in what he might have got I bade him enter, and he stood before me in the dim light of my tallow candle.
Fumbling in his leopard skin, he drew forth a little tortoiseshell, such as the Hottentot women use for holding the hare's foot, ochre, buchu leaves, and other mysteries of their toilet. I had often seen him with it, and had chaffed him about carrying it before, and he evidently anticipated something of the kind again.
"Nay, master," he said, before I could speak, "true, as thou sayest, it is a woman's box, and a woman gave it me. But the box is naught; this is what I would show my master."
He shook something from the little box into the palm of his hand, clenched it, and with a dramatic gesture thrust it close to the dim light, and threw his fingers wide.
There, glittering in the yellow palm, flashing and scintillating with every movement, and looking as though the light it gathered and reflected really burnt in its liquid depths, lay the most marvelous diamond I had ever beheld!
The size of a small walnut, flawless, blue-tinted, and of wondrous luster and beauty, its many facets were as brilliantly polished as though fresh from the hands of the cutter, though it was a "rough" stone, untouched except by nature.
I was too stunned to speak, or do anything but clutch it, and gloat over it, and mutter "Where? where?"
CHAPTER II
DEAD MEN IN THE DUNES
I don't know how long I gazed in fascination at the wonderful stone, but at length a low chuckle from Inyati brought me back to reality. He stood looking at me, with a whimsical smile on his face.
"Magic," said he, "magic, my master! Did I not say there was magic in these 'bright stones'? And who shall say it is not so? Has not my master for a whole moon been lifeless and sad, until he looked even as the old cow that died of lung-sick but yesterday? And has not the very sight of the magic stone again brought fire to his eye, till he is again even as the young bull that killed two of those Bushmen dogs also but yesterday? Who shall say it is not magic?"
"Inyati," I stammered, coming back to my senses, and ignoring his extremely doubtful compliments, "speak, man; where did you get this?"
"In my own land, master; a far land, many moons' trek from here, and where there are many. But few dare touch them except indeed the devil- men and they are not men at all, but devils! Though I feared them little even then . . . and now, now that I have a gun (for surely my master will give me the little gun that speaks many times for this magic stone?) I fear them not at all! And we will go back and get many more if my master so wishes and I will see again the woman who gave me the stone as a talisman long years ago!"
Give him "the little gun that speaks many times" the Winchester for a diamond worth a king's ransom?
"Inyati," I said, though I was sorely tempted, "the gun is thine; not indeed for the stone, for that I will not take from thee, and it is worth more than all the guns and cattle I possess. But for the gun, guide thou me to this land of thine, that I may find these stones thou callest magic."
"That will I do readily, master," he answered, "and, in truth, I am well content to keep the stone, for the sake of the woman who gave it me. And there are many more! And did I not say truthfully that the stones were magic? See now, my master, the very sight of one has made my master give me the desire of my heart the little gun that speaks many times."
I gave him the Winchester there and then, and never did I see a human being so delighted.
Late into the night we sat and talked, and planned, whilst the Bushmen sat round their camp fire, and clucked and chattered in their queer- sounding speech, gorging themselves to repletion on the offal of an eland I had shot the previous day.
I learnt that Inyati's country lay far to the north-east, across the dreaded waterless stretches of the unknown Kalahari. He had fled from it years ago, his life forfeit to the priests or "devil-men" as he called them for some cause that he did not explain, or that my limited knowledge of his language did not permit of my understanding. The stones were plentiful, that he assured me of again and again, but they were sacred, or tabooed, and no one was allowed to handle them but the priests of whom he spoke.
He had always wanted to return, but had always Feared, but now with his "little gun" I believe Inyati would cheerfully have faced a thousand priests, or for the matter of that a thousand warriors. Danger there would be, but what was that to him and his master?
He could find his way back, though the journey would be long and difficult; and now was the only season in which it could be