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 undertaken; the season when the wild melon made it possible to traverse the waterless wastes of the "Great Thirst Land."

I did not hesitate a moment, in fact no wink of sleep had I that night, but lay tossing and turning, longing for daylight to come that I might inspan and commence my long trek.

It came at last, my preparations for striking camp were soon made, and sending off my crowd of Bushmen camp-followers with a small present of tobacco, I turned my back to the sea and began my long journey to the north-east.

Out of the long defiles and valleys we threaded our way into the open country, past the huge flat-topped mountains of Ombokoro, the fastness of the Berg Damaras, thence following the dry river-bed of the Om- Mafako north-east to the confines of the Omaheke desert that great north-western outlier of the true Kalahari not far, indeed, from this very spot! So far the trek had been slow and tedious, but without untoward incident. We were well armed, and those natives who did not avoid us were only too eager to bring in food, or show us water in return for our trade goods.

But, as the broken, bushy country gave way to the sand, water became scarcer and scarcer, until it could only be obtained in small quantities by digging deep in the bone-dry bed of the parched-up river.

At length it became evident that we could take the wagon and oxen no farther; and so, at some Bushmen water-pits, at the every edge of the desert, where "toa" grass and other fodder was still plentiful, I decided to leave both vehicle and beasts in charge of my Hottentot and Griqua followers, and attempt the desert journey on horseback, and accompanied only by Inyati. Indeed there was no other course; for the few "pans" that might contain water on the route we should have to follow, were far between, and, as the season was late, even they might well be dry. "T'samma," therefore, the wild melon that serves for food and water for both man and beast in these desert stretches, would be our only resource; but even in this respect the lateness of the season was a source of anxiety, for, as you doubtless know, when once it is over-ripe the t'samma is useless.

Two riding and two pack horses were all therefore that we dare take; on the latter we loaded food, ammunition, spare arms and trade goods; and with our skin water-bags filled, one evening when the moon was nearly at its full, we bade goodbye to our little band, and struck due east across the desert.

Our plan was to hold in that direction as long as t'samma was abundant; and should it fail, to attempt to reach one of the "pans" Inyati had discovered in his flight across the desert years before, and which the strange instinct of locality common to all natives of these wastes would probably enable him to find again.

All night long we rode slowly and steadily through the dunes which were here favorable to our course; for their long parallel lines ran like the waves of the sea, almost due east and west, as far as the eye could reach, and we were able to ride in the "aars" or narrow valleys between them and make good progress.

So far vegetation of a sort was still abundant, tufted "toa" grass, sorrel, and other succulent plants offered juicy fodder for the horses, and I began to think that this much-dreaded desert was a desert but in name, and that our task was to be a light one. With dawn we off- saddled. From the summit of a high dune I looked round in all directions, and as far as the eye could reach could see nothing but the endless monotony of wave after wave of dunes, treeless, and apparently almost devoid of vegetation, for the little there was, was confined to the deep hollows between. A short distance away a fair-sized bush offered a modicum of shade, and here we rested for the day for we had planned to travel only in the cool of the night as long as the moon served. And here Inyati showed me how to make water from the young green t'samma, taking those the size of an orange only, and roasting them in the ashes, and thus turning their pulp into a clear liquid like water. Seldom though did we trouble to do this, eating the insipid cucumber-like fruit as we found it, but though refreshing and capable of supporting life, the longing for water is always present in the desert.

And thus, trekking by night, and resting by day as much as the terrific heat would allow, we worked our tedious way into the heart of the desert; and now the magnitude of the task before me was becoming more fully apparent every day. For, toil as our willing beasts would, it was obvious that each long night's exhausting trek barely carried us ten miles forward as the crow flies. The dunes were each day becoming higher, till they were veritable mountains of sand, the patches of t'samma became less and less frequent, and it was evident that at any time they might fail altogether. All this time we saw no sign of human life, not even a solitary spoor upon the tell-tale sand. Animal life, however, there was in abundance, and we had no need to leave our path to shoot as much game as we required.

At times, on cresting the brow of a dune, we would come close upon a herd of gemsbok in the long "aar" beneath us; magnificent animals, whose long, straight, saber-like horns are feared even by the lion. Fearless of man, the whole troop would stand as one, gazing straight at us, immovable as statues, until we were within a few yards of them; then their leader, usually a magnificent bull, with horns of well on to four feet, would give a toss of his head and a stamp of his foot, and away the whole troop would fly; wheeling, trotting, halting and turning to gaze at us again, in such perfect unison, that they reminded one irresistibly of a well-drilled troop of cavalry.

Or a flock of ostriches would career across our path, their huge strides covering the ground at an incredible pace; queer-looking hartebeest were also plentiful, and duiker, steenbok, and smaller fry abounded everywhere.

Of lions we saw but little, though their spoors were abundant, and occasionally we heard them at night; the spoors of leopards were everywhere but these wily animals are seldom seen unless hunted for and often a pack of the dreaded wild hunting-dogs would stream across our path in pursuit of its quarry.

For strangely enough all of these animals appear to be absolutely independent of water, and some of them notably the gemsbok, apparently never drink.

There came a day when we entered an entirely different region, though still the sand stretched in all directions. But now the dunes were no longer either uniform in height or parallel as they had been, but tossed and tumbled in all directions in the utmost confusion; and here also t'samma, and in fact all vegetation, ceased. We reached this region of awful desolation a little after sunrise one morning, coming upon it abruptly from the edge of a dune whose hollow held the usual vegetation in plenty.

With my field-glasses I scanned the bare and barren waste before us in all directions, but no sign of life or vegetation broke the monotony of its awful desolation. I looked at Inyati, peering from under his palm in the same direction, and he answered my unspoken question.

"Yes, master, we must cross it. It runs for many days' journey north and south, and we cannot go round. I crossed it when I came, but farther south; and I found a little t'samma then. And yet I nearly died!"

That day the heat was very great, and here there were no bushes to give us a particle of shade. A few stunted "gar-boomen" there were, and the horses ate eagerly of the long bunches of bean-like fruit hanging from them; but their thin, withered foliage was no protection against the terrific power of the sun. Then Inyati showed me a Bushman trick; for, burrowing in the side of the dune, he soon made a considerable hollow, and breaking down the brittle "gar" bushes he roofed it over, throwing a whole pile of other bushes on top till it was light-proof enough to at least break some of the sun's glare.

And into this we crawled, and stewed till evening brought us some little respite.

Meanwhile we had discussed our chances of getting across.

"Three days, at least, my master, it will take the horses; and if we find no t'samma they will die. It is drier than when I crossed. But if we go not east, but turn somewhat to the south, there is a pan. It is two days only but who knows if there is water there? Still, mayhap, that is the better path." That night we had to wait late before trekking, as the moon was waning, and in the hideous jumble of dunes before us, we feared to trust solely to the stars. We were glad to rest too, and let our horses rest and take their fill of the last t'samma they were likely to get.

I lay smoking in the dark, waiting for the moon to rise, and listening to the "crunch, crunch" of the horses still steadily feeding, when a low call from Inyati made me spring to my feet, He had climbed to the top of the highest dune, and at his second call I ploughed my way up through the loose sand till I stood beside him. He was pointing away to the south-east.

"A fire, master," he said; "there are men there; that must be our way, for there must there be t'samma, or water!"

Sure enough a tiny fire was flickering far away, and apparently on the far horizon, though it is almost impossible to judge of the distance of a fire by night.

At any rate, it certainly seemed better for us to try to make our way to it, and without waiting longer for the moon we saddled up and started our floundering way across the labyrinth of dunes in its direction.

All night long we followed the faint gleam, which faded and vanished as morning found us, well-nigh exhausted, in the midst of the wilderness of bare sand.

But, though I could see nothing, Inyati's keen eyes made out a thin wreath of smoke from a prominent dune still some distance away; and in spite of our fatigue we struggled on, till, with the sun glaring down full upon us, we stood on the flank of the huge slope of sand. Near its crest, a few dry and blackened stumps and withered bushes showed where a little vegetation had once existed, and from near them rose the smoke. There was, however, no sign of life; and not a sound broke the awful silence of the desert, as we breasted the rise. Then a vulture flapped lazily up in front of us, and another and another and a tiger- wolf (hyena) lurched its gorged and ungainly carcass down the farther slope.

The fire was alive, but those that had built and lit it were dead . . . of thirst.

They lay there, all that the vultures had left, a fearsome sight; and their swollen and protruding tongues told the tale as plainly as though they had spoken. Yellow bodies, emaciated, but the bodies of what had once been a splendidly proportioned man and woman no Bushmen these!

"They are of my folk," said Inyati gravely, as he stooped to examine them, "mayhap they too have fled from the priests? . . And they have crossed the desert the way we would go and are dead of thirst!"