THE STORYTELLER.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume L, Issue 60, 17 August 1907, Page 3

THE STORYTELLER.

THE LUCE OF GEMSBOK LAAGTT They were a merry party of cyclists, gathered together on a Sussex Common, under the ihadow of the majeitU' South Downs. Vliey had had tea at Wilmington Tillage, stnjlled up to the little church, enjoyed the wonderful view from the peaceful churchyard, and had picked cowslips on the smooth grassy slopes near the Long Man, that gigantic figure carved on the steep Wilmington downside, in ages long remote, by some rude people concerning whose origin even archaeologists are dumb. And now the group, Mtsn in number, had wandered down to the goose-haunted common again, to chat with an artist friend, who was painting a gipsy encampment not far from the four cross roads. White they stood, criticising the picture, and exchanging remarks with the artist, a young gipsy woman came up and at once ollered to tell the fortunes of any of the company. The necessary piece of silver being found, liilda ilaunering, one of the girls, was, after much pel suasion and infinite laughur, induced to present her hand for inspection. Tift gipsy woman, in the approved patter of hier tribe, and with much volubility, told the girl's fortune, describing the conflict of the fair man with the dark, for the lady's favor, and finally predicting, after a torture, a death, and a long journey had intervened, the triumph of the fair-haired lover. Then, after vainly endeavoring to 'persuade any of the others of the group to try their luck with her, the gipsy retired to iier caravan. "I don't think mud of that lady's accomplishments as a prophetess,' remarked the artist, as he took up his palettu again and turned to his picture, "but there is an old crone yonder, by the brown tent, who interests me amazingly. She is a genuine Romany of the old type, which one very seldom sees nowadays."

"Ali right," said one of the three men, "we'll go and interview her." They went across to the old woman, who aat by the red embers of a wood fire, dose to the entrance of an ancient weather-tanned tent, in which, apparently, lb* made her sleeping place. The old dame, who iuul the appearansa of being at least seventy years of age, represented, as the artist had said, tbe true old gipsy type, which is now becoming veif scarce in England Her dark eyes, now sunken and faded, her withered skin, almost the color of aa African's, or of a native of the West Indies, contrasted strongly with her fair hair and the yellow, green, and red ahawl draws over her head. Something in the dark eyes and her features suggested irresistibly the type of Hindustan, from which country the true gipsies—miscalled Egyptians by our ancestors—originally wandered hundreds of years ago ob that rotten trek which was eventually to land them In Europe. "Matter," said one of the men. "we want you to tell a fortune for us." The old dame shook her head end smiled a feeble, half-melancholy smile. "Nay my gentlemen," she answered in • curiously dry, croaking voice. "I am too old and too worn out My day is put for telling fortunes." I As she spoke, her eyes* ran attentively over the group before her, three goodlooking girls, a comely young married woman, and three men, whose ages varied from three-and-twenty to four-and-thirty. Her keen gaze was presently riveted on one of the men, a dark, suntanned, broad-shouldered fellow, of six-aad-twenty, a young mining engineer, jorthone from the parched wildernus I anil wild mountains of Mexico. "Stay." she said, "perhaps I am wrong. Do you, my gentleman, come and let the old gipsy look at your hand." Ralph Bernard, for so he was named, •tapped forward with a smile, and, sittte alongside the old crone, gave her his left hand. Tbs beldame scrutinised each feature of the young man's frank, keen, good-look-ing face with grave attention, and then gssed long aim earnestly at his open

palm. "Ye*," she said, half to herself, "there Is something here. l'U try. it may be the bust time Hester Cooper tells the future. Now be quiet all of you for a minute or two!"

The little company ceased tbeir light chatter, and flood in silence before the tagged old woman and the well-groom-ed. Tweed-clad Englishman by her side. With her brown wrinkled right hand she grasped his hand gently by the wrist. Then dosing her eyes and covering tliero with her lelt hand, she sat silent as a figure of bronze. lor the space of a minute sha remained thus immovable. Then her lips opened. "Your fortune, my gentleman," she in odd, sententious tones, "lias to do with a deer and new land. 1 see before me a man—it is yourself riding across a hot, dry country, on a great ■wide plain. Vou are riding hard, aod there is a deer with long horns in front of you. it has a striped fac-- ami is galloping last—fast—fast. And now 1 see the deer lying dead, and you are off jour laorse with a gun in your hanu. , There is your fortune —I pan see no more—no more—the picture is gone. But there—there is your luck—good luck It J»—of that lam certain." The old woman dropped Balph Bernard'* hand, removed her hand from her brow, and opened her eyes. 1 can tell you no more," (he laid. "1 am old, and tired, and worn out. But th» I know," she went on earnestly, "to* will have lock and plenty of it. Aad you will come borne, and be happy." Al eh* spoke these last words her ojm wandered, m if unconsciously, to the face of Hilda Mannering. Thanlyou, mother for your trouble" «a! 4 Balph kindly. He rose, put his fcani into his pocket, took out two halferowns from some loose silver, and put it into the ancient dupe 1 * hand. "There's something for hick," he said » pleasant, If somewhat doubting , ■ r il. When I come back, if your tale is true, H do something more for VQU." "Ah my kind gentleman," she returned. "Bless you for your gift. Tis a good heart you've got and a pleasant face, and the good luck is to be yours, too. For me. you will never see Hester Cooper again. But when the fortune b yours, If you ever come back to Wilmington Common, why, you can just do something for my folk here. You'll find them at Wilmington always in the spring of the year, when the cowslips are flowering at the feet of the long ]bt yonder." that's all right," said Balph Beraaitf, witt * cheery laugh. "If I ever jo gome into my fortune, as you prophesy, I shall not forget you. IH come ont here and look up your old people and do something for them. It's an easy promise; I only hope I may have to fulfil it." They all bade good-bye to the old crone, and then, amid a great of laughter and jsome chafl at Ralph Bernard's expense, pit their evcU-s and journeyed on to Miehflham Priory and thence back to Eastbourne by Hailssham.

Two years bad elapsed. Baljih Bernow ill Sooth Africa. Instead of retaining to Mexico, as he had antieiCtad after his run borne, to England, he d been whisked off by a turn of the wfctd of a mi&ißg engineers somewhat kaleidoscopic fortune in another direction, to report on some mineral property* far alleld in Rhodesia. Thence he h»d come down country, after eighteen months' hard work, and excellent pay, in the unkept but lovely wilderness oi Hashonaland. He was now resting «wh3e in Kimberley, taking a careful anrrey of the diamond fields, and making himself actpiainted with the singular f'v matioo in which the rarest gems iu tl world have their resting place. He had «een Be Beers and -its marvels, looked Bt the Kimherlej', Du Toits Pan, liuplt fontcin and Weselton Mine*, rim across to the rich ,Tagger»fontein deposits in the Orange Fre> Stat**, and Wat' hell the motleyltsmrinlent of minors at irnrf: on the alluvial diggings along the Va.il river.

One evening at Uic Centre! Hof.-I, fn | before dinner, Ralph luul rm up I ttu old schoolfellow, who Hd !t;f« niih htm at Hallpylinry I., i'.-n. Jofft 111 w-l-lt. hnr-l. -is: 1 -.irri'. I and vigorous. The !' l - < m 1 a delightful one, rtJiff over an dinner the two friends—for i!i y Is t .i been great churn® at -thooj—rrn \v '<l nM • dajs and exrl,an>re«l their r«rwi*. encea. Jimmy Fielding H;m' jint '"fi/in from hi* cattle farm near Mtwita, in British R**chuann!and. whrre for tfce I»st four yoarx he :ind a brother had . tMen «nakin« thi-in-*r!v.-s a comfort-iVm- * lu>me and running >to<k with a f.iir ■*" Mount vt anew**. Ife wa-« n«>w at .v KmhorlfV for a to m ike vari •s*** porrhtiße* required on the farm, and . WpWttlly to «r<W a lipht Am'-ritan JVm&iR pump required for a new and

I permanent water supply on the driest jand most distant part' of their 12,000 I acre run.

I "And now, old chap" -mid Fielding to I his friend over their after-dinner smoke, by whieh time they had brought their careers and their doings almost completely up-to-date, "what are you going to do uith yourself!" '"Well, Jimmy," returu-d lialph Bernard, "I've linislied my survey of diamonds, and the diamond industry. Some dry 1 hope my experience will be useful to me. It's a wonderfully fascinating business. i think 1 shall now treat mysflf to a couple of months' holiday. l've_ had eighteen months of real hard work, and I've done very well for myself, much better than I did in Mexico. <!old and diamonds arc better than silver, and this country is thoroughly awake and alive after its long deep, whieh -Mexico is not? 1 believe there

(are immense deposits of minerals—gqld, diamonds, eopper, iron, coal, and so forth—hidden awav in South Africa, and only waiting to bs discovered and taken up. I thought of taking a of months oil' and going up i;it, Kalahari, which nobody seems to look

at. I can get some fair shooting there, r.nd have a general look round. Where can I lit out a waggon from best? Jlaio king, I suppose?"

"ily dear chap," answered Fielding eagerly, "i'ni the very man for you. Your proposition just lits in with "my

own ideas. Come up to our farm and have a look round tlieiv for a fortnight. 1 ian give you lots of bird shooting and

fiiow you a fair amount of small buck, i hen. 1 li go with you to the Kalahari. We'll t:cic up towards Lehuiitu and you shall shoot koodoo, gcuisbok, hartebeest, springbok, .i.'.e wildebeest, and perhaps —if wj get far enough—eland and giraffe. I've leng wanted to have a look at the inner Kalahari country—there's splendid ranching ground there—and we will fit out my waggon and do the thing

comfortably. I've got an excellent Vaal(v us hero- man. who knows the country, and we'll liave a real good time. You mustn't dream of saying no. You'll come, won't yout" "Yea, Jimmy," returned his old schoolmate, looking into his friend's keen and excited l'aee with a smile of amusement, •'I see you are just as much an en-

thusiast as yon were in the old days. Of course I'll comc. When can we start?"

"Splendid," ejaculated Fielding. "I'll be ready in three days. You'll have to buy a couple of decent ponies; well get them in the morning market to-morrow or next day, and then we'll be off. What funs have you got t" "A sporting .303," rejoined his friend, "• Gibt.-i .450, and a 12-bore shot gun. I've ttsed them all in Mashonaland, and they're all right." "Right," added Fielding. "You can't want a better battery. We'll get fresh

ammunition and then—Hey! for the great Kalahari. Never was so pleased ill all my life! My word, we shall have • royal time!" In three days, as he had promised, Fielding had completed his business in Kimtxrley. They had secured a couple of excellent ponies at £lB and £11) apiece respectively. lioth of these were well broken to the gun; one of them had been in the hunting velt, and they were both typical, hard-bitten South African nags just in from the country and in good condition. They trained up to Setlagoli, where Fiediiig's Cape cart and a pair of horses were awaiting him. Inspanning Ralph's new purchase, they drove their capital team of four through the pleasant country of British Bechuanaland for a couple of days, passing Mosita and its fair'valley, and Kudunque Laagt- and its crystal pool, until at length they reached the Fielding*' homestead. Here they were greeted bf Jimmy's younger brotb r Jack, in the heartiest fashion.

The life of the South African pastoral farmer is a quiet one, and .1 fresh face, especially when that face belongs to an | old fri-nil and school-fellow, is a rare pleasure in the vast unpeopled solitudes lof the wild veldt. And yet it is good fnr men to conquer nature and live thus lin the wilderness—that is if th"V have

the right stuff in them. Ralph Bernard recognised what nature and the open-air

life, and, it must be added, their own natural grit, had done for his two schoolmates. It had made men of them. They could ride and plough, •poor lost stock, and break and span-in oxen almost as well as Boers; they thoroughly understood stock; and they had built and thatched—much of It with their own hands—a comfortable fourroomed homretead; broken in rich land in tho valley near, where they grew oats and mealies, and the fruit trees planted near the house, vines, peaches, oranges. apricots, and quinces, were prospering. some of them already bearing [fruit The two brothers had in effect

triumphed over the bulk of the difficulties that had originally best them. They got through the ilread scourge of rinderpest with little loss. That was a stroke or pure luck, as ttr-y were the first to admit—and were now on the high road to pro-perity. Markets were growing, and their stock fetched magnificent prices amid the general scarcity of trek and slaughter '>-en. After a ni' ■' peasant fortnight, spent on Springhaan Vlaktc, for some wandering Boer pionoer had first christened the place, Ralph and the elder Fielding trekked away for the Kalahari. They passed the big native town of Merokweng, and then, striking north-east, orossed the dry bed of the Molopo and entered upon the almost unknown spaces of the Kalahari. Here they enjoyed excellent sport. One day they came across a troop of twelve gemsbok, those magnificent, longhorned antelope, from which, some say, the legend of the unicorn first sprang. The oryxes had a good start, and for half a dozen miles the chase swept on over the sea of rolling grass plain. Presently Fielding, who was the better nounfed, galloped up to a heavy bull, now tailing, and brought him down. Ralph Bernard rode steadily In the rear of the herd. He had, looking back, witnessed his friend's success. But his own time had not yet come. He gazed ahead at the troop of great, ash-colored antelopes that still held their lead. Would they n ver give in? His pony still strode .gallantly under him; but he was an eleven-stone-seven man; he rode thirteen stone ewn with his light .3U3 rifle, and the good beast could not compass more than a few miles of the Tl'ldt.

In another two milt"- he had urg.'d bis pony to within less than IUO yards of • magnificent cow. carrying the longest j horns in the troop, and lired his stmt. His bullet went true, lmt it stuck the gembuek too far back,, hitting her in the ribs, lnst-atf of liehind the shoulder. Still she was hit; she staggered visibly to the shot, but with the marvellous ritaiitv of her desert-bred race she pressed on. The white slaver, stringing from her Hps and flviug across her shoulders was now stained with red. Hit gallop became more labored, her race was run. She stayed on with marvellous -toutirss for' another three miles, and then, lier pursuer having crept up within thirty yards, -In' halted suddenly, swung round in her track", arid fronted him. With another bullet he iaiil her low; her horns measured 45 inches-almost a record—and as Ralph gazed, he could scarcely admire suffi-jr-i'-ntly her wonderful coloring and mark-ling*—vinous-ash, snow-white and black and her noble proportions. Nearly thive hours later the waggon arrived on the scene: Jimmy Fielding turned up with his trophy and a quantity of meat, muiual congratulations were exchanged, and camp was formed for the night. As luck would have it. the chase hud led th -m into a liiagtc. 01 shallow valley, in which, long ages before, a Mreym hid onee flowed. Here a pool ot' water, the last rcmntnl of the ««•»:.« t.ii;w, etood in a hollow hard by. It was a woui|eriul find, and th-'ir anxieties

were at once tnnoved. They clean»d and filled their barrels, the «*cn and l,..rscs drank, and the hunt.-.s eujc.yd d. liirh'.fnl wash. They .spent a merry , .-pniiig by a blazing lire of Vital hush .M>d tliurn'tiniber; their men had a great r.a-i of jeuisliok meat, and all was ««•

\Vh--i iialpb Rernard awoke at dawn i; iiiciijng lie was astoui-hed to hear lie -eiind of r iau'' voi-cs. Looking |i 'i-i': ir■■ ■ 111 ('ii' .'..ii'-i fi 1,0 saw tivo other ! - ' -pal.tied near. •'any .---ii ..!• , -jrv/iiig jii tin 1 p id: arou -.i Tie- e ijnn . s ~f lai.jj. \\i, . "T; M;riife-l'y tho-e of ! ■ i ' e'. ,1 ale.'iil. .tu-f li--'l 1 ---It' i._ ,ur ■ n; Ii". I :, "IM i ! " c: ! ■ l?ha: : •!•"t • ti- ;iin ali : ■.i■ i;. and iv'ii. ci carta arc t!:'--e jj'; ■>'' •Why. i'."- a row I'iii-i ,h,i „r> 'live run up aayb'-■!>.- in ibis ,( s- r.* retorn'd hi- friend. "pa-; i|i.-c'j-e 11 tic !i>er-. re! urn in" from ;'•> tiie.-r country lieymid (>;intjk,lnml -ivacdes way. Tli-y came !»y t.ake Vtrami. ;:: °d are iaku:-r n short cut ov> r the Kalahari. Poor d.jvil-, they've all had fever on the Okavango, and sonic

of the children are still down with jit. Come and have a IffoE at them." Italpli scrambled out of his blanket, lind a wash in a bucket of water, and walked with ds friend over to the Iloer encampmu.t. They were » trnvdworn lot, in truth. There were three families of them, 16 souls in all, and all showed manifest- signs of the fevers, privations ami hardships that they had ]tii.s:»'d through. (iiu! (if the women, a ! 1 roubled-lonking | mt still strong and I buxom vronw, clad in a tattered gown and mueh bedraggled "kapic" (siin-Ixm-u.'tl. Oil me up to the Englishmen and ■ asked if they had any medicines by them. Two of her children sufiVrc'd *ii"eh from fever, and were still down with it in the waggon. Ralph, as it happened, had an excellent stock of drugs among his kit. He at once fetched it, and won th? hejirt of the c-arc-

| worn vrouw liy handing her a supply [ampin for immediate wants and accompanied her to the waggon to administer the first dose and have a look at the children. He spolce a fair amount of Dutch, picked up in Mashonaland. and mad - clear to the mother how and u'heft

the remedies were to be administered. •ill thai. day and Uie lie.u tlic nek iioers stood outsp.umed. luey iuul got out tncir liulj chairs and waggon tables; Uicir c'Oflv a,ni liens wore picking up tueir loon about tile taiup; even a cat ami her kittens had survived the trek aiul were sunning litems Ives cojmortably iu tliu ploasant neat. J lie bu.v. lisliiiien supplied Luis iiioticy partv \vitll various tilings which tiie "poor iiavcl*tai!iat loliv lacked—meal, sugar, tinned miik, eoliee and tobacco; godsends, inueod, alter sucli a journey. Lute in the I aiu.rnoou of tile second day the iioers

Jiispanncd and set forth again. Xiiey Here desperately in haste to reach once more their beloved Xrausvaai, from

v ' hieit they had trekked with high hopes veals beiore. Just Wiore they quitted the laagte, Vrouw (Jeliiers eante across ironi her waggon to say good-bye and renew her thanks to lialpii ilernard for his gift ol' medicine. She had a dead lowl with her ami a pair of horns. She pressed these upon the Englishman. "\ou have been a good friend to me," she said, "i never knew you Knglish folk could be so kind. it is little i

can do in return, jiut here is my best lowl, which I have killed for you. You may like it lor your supper to-uigiit. And there is a pair of Water Koodoo horns, which my man thought you would the Lake Kallirs call them; they are found only beyond the lake, and are scarce buck."

Ralph expressed his thanks warmly. They 'shook hands, and parted with real regret, and the trekkers moved away south-westward.

"Xot half a bad soft, was she, .Jimmy';" said lie, when they had gone. "Actually made the discovery that there are as many as two decent Englishmen in th.> world." He picked up the dead fowl and began to pluck it. "Jimmy," he went on, "I think we'll have chicken for supper to-night. Thin swms quite a good one. and it will be a bit of a change from game meat." J he feaihvrs were at length plucked, hat a deuce of a crop the beggar has got," he continueud. "I'll open it." Taking out his knife, he did so, and found, besides grain, seeds, and other items of food some small pebbles mingled among them. One of these struck his fancy. It was a curious, whitishlooking pebble, about the size of a large pea, and octagonal in form. 'liy all that's precious, Jimmv," burst out Ralph, after hoking hard" at the pebble again, and turning it over and over in his palm, "here's a find! It's a diamond, and of fine water"

"Rats! old chap!" grunted his friend, rising nevertheless from his waggon chair and coining up. lie took the stone and inspeet-d it carefully and curiously. "Well," he said, "it might lie a diamond. But how in the name of fortune could such a thing get here? It's Impossible. Do you suppose that stone was swallowed lately?"

"That stone, old man," returned Ralph, in a deep, impressive voice, looking serenely at his friend the while, "was swallowed here, wlhin the last two days. It's a diamond, absolutely, and where that came from there are more."

Suddenly some reminiscence Unshed across his mind. He looked round about the camp, at the dry, spreading plains beyond the laagte, at the skin and horns of the gemsbok head, drying upon the rail of the waggon. "By George!" he exclaimed, a wonderful change coming over his countenance, "the old gipsy woman was right. Her prophecy was a true one. Here is my luck, in this laagte hero. There is the deer with the striped fac she spoke of only it happens to lie an antelope. Here is the very country she saw. Jimmy, I solemnly believe we've run our iio-es up against a big fortune!" "I think you've gone clean daft," said Fielding, sedately.. Ralph explained. IT:: told his comrade of the nvcting with the gipsy woman, and of her curious prophecy. Still, l'lelding remained unconvinced, ironical, a mere scoffer.

But, in sooth, the old gipsy woman had foretold truly. Here, in "this shallow laagte, lay a forfmie for both of them.

On various pretexts they kept their native servants out on the veldt, huntiftg, herrling the oxen, and exploring the route ill front of them for the next three days, during which they themselves made a complete exploration of the shallow valley—already they called it "Gi'insboke Laagte"—in which they Not only did they find plenty of indications of a diamondiferotis formation—red sand, "yellow ground," surface shales, surrounding basalt, and so forth—but they found yet more diamonds,to the number of nine stones, varying In size from a buckshot to a hazel nut. A mine was there beneath them, beyond all shadow of doubt.

These events happened in the spring of 1890. The Boer war. In which Ralph Bernard and his friend fought in the , ranks of the Imp'rial Light Horse, intervened and stayed all work at Gemsbok Laagte for three long years. But in 10O'{ the Gemsbok mine was thoroughly explored and opened tip. Its riches have been fully proved by a powerful syndicate; the output of diamonds is already a considerable one, and the three friends—for Jack Fielding participated In his brother's half-share of the good fortune—are already rich men. From only a small portion of his syndicate share Ralph Bernard realised .tin, 1)1)1) in cash. Not only has fortune smil.-d on his affairs "financially, but he has been able to persuade a certain fair girl nolle other than Hilda .Mannering—to share his future with him.

The old gipsy woman, Hester Cooper, who so strangely foretold the luck or Oemsbok Laagte, did not live to see her prophecy fulfilled. She died in the winter of I!)(ll. Uut Ralph Bernard's promise to her had not been forgotten. One sprirtg, when the cowslips bloomed again on the pleasant slopes below the Ixmg Man of Wilmington, the gipsy family appeared with a very handsome'new van. dei-nraled in Hi- magniliccnt iiiiil re-|ilcii<U'ni Myle that the gipsy mind could conc'lve or suggest. A pair of strong and good-looking hows drew this palace of delight oil to the common. In this anil other ways the kith and kin of the old ltomany woman have participated in the fortune so singularly predicted bv her.