[COPYRIGHT STORY.] The Luck of Gemsbok Laagte

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 25, 22 June 1907, Page 32

[COPYRIGHT STORY.] The Luck of Gemsbok Laagte

By

H. A. BRYDEN, Author

of “ Kloof and Karoo,” Etc.

THEY were a merry party of cyclists, gathered together on a Sussex Common, under the shadow of the majestic South Downs. They had had tea at Wilmington village, strolled up to the little church, enjoyed the wonderful view from the peaceful churchyards, 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 dummb. And now the group, seven 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. While they stood criticising the picture, and exchanging remarks with the artist, a young gipsy woman came up, and at once offered to tell the fortunes of any of the company. The necessary piece of silver being found, Hilda Mannering, one of the girls, was, after much persuasion and infinite laughter, induced to present her hand for inspection. The gipsy woman, in the approved patter of her tribe, and with much volubility, told the girl's fortune, describing the conflict of the fair man with the dark for her client’s favour, and finally .predicting, after a fortune, a death, and a long journey had intervened, the triumph of the fair haired lover. Then, after vainly endeavouring to persuade any of the others of the group to try their luck with her, the gipsy retired to her caravan. “I don’t think much of that lady’s accomplishments as a prophetess,” remarked the artist, as he took up his palette 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 nowada vs.” "All right,” said one of three men, “we ll go and interview her.” They went across to the old woman, who sat by the red embers of a wood tire, close to the entrance of an ancient weather-tanned tent, in which, apparently. she made her sleeping place. The old dame, who had the appearance of being at least seventy years of age, represented, as the artist had said, the true old gipsy type, which is now becoming very scarce in England. Her dark eyes, now sunken and faded, her withered skin, almost the colour of an African’s or of a native of the East Indies, contrasted strongly with her grey hair and tb.e yellow, green and red shawl drawn over her head. Something in her dark eyes and her features suggest'd irresistibly the type of Hindustan, from which country the true gipsies—miscalled Egyptians by our ancestors—originally wandered hundreds of years ago on that long trek which was eventually to land them in Eastern Europe. "Mother,” said one of the men, “wo want you to tell a fortune for us.” The old dame shook her head and smile I a feeble, halfmelancholy smile. “Nay. my gentleman.” shp answered in a curiously dry, croaking- voice. “I am too old and too worn out. My day is past for telling fortunes.” 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

rivetted on one of the men, a dark, suntanned, broad-shouldered fellow of six-and-twenty, a young mining engineer, just home from the parched wildernesses and 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, stepped forward with a smile, and, sitting alongside the old crone, gave her

his left hand. The beldame scrutinised each feature of the young man's frank, keen, goodlooking face with grave attention, and then gazed long and earnestly at his open palm.

“Yes,” she said, half to herself. “There is something here. I’ll try. It may be the last time Hester Cooper tells the future. Now be quiet all of you for a minute or two!”

The little company ceased their light chatter, and stood in silence before the ragged 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 closing her eyes and covering them with her left hand she sat silent as a figure of bronze. For the space of a long minute she remained thus immovable. Then her lips opened. “Your fortune, my gentleman,” she said in odd, sententious tones, “has to do with a deer and a new land. I see before me a man—it is yourself—riding across a hot, dry country, on a great wide plain. You are riding hard, and there is a deer with long horns hi front of you. It has a striped face, and is galloping fast—fast —fast. And now- I see the deer lying dead, and you are off your horse with a gun in your hand. There is your fortune —I can see no more—no more—the picture is gone. But there—there is your luck—good luck it is—of that I am certain.” The old woman dropped Ralph Barnard's hand, removed her hand from her brow and opened her eyes. “I can tell you no more,” she said. “I am old and tired and worn out. But this I know,” she went on earnestly, “you will have luck and plenty of it. And you will come home and be happy.” As she spoke these last words her eyes wandered, as if unconsciously, to the face of Hilda Mannering. “Thank you, mother, for your trouble,” said Ralph, kindly. He rose, put his hand into his pocket, took out two half-crowns from some loose silver, and put it into the ancient dame’s hand. “There’s something for luck,” he said with a pleasant, if somewhat doubting smile. “When I come back, if your tale is true, I'll do something more for you.” “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 old Hester Cocper again. But when the fortune is 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 Man yonder.” “That's all right,” said Ralph Barnard with a cheery laugh. “If ever I do come into my fortune, as you prophesy, I shall not forget you. I’ll come out here and look up your people and do ■something for them. It’s an easy promise j I only hope I may have to fulfil it.”

They all bade good-bye to the old crone, and then amid a good deal of laughter, and some chaff at Ralph Barnard's expense, got their cycles and) journeyed on to the Miehelham Priory, and thence back to Eastborne by Hailsham.

Two years had elapsed. Ralph Barnard was now in South Africa. Instead of returning to Mexico as he had anticipated, after his run home to England, he had been whisked off by a turn of the wheel of a mining engineer’s somewhat kaleidoscopic fortune in another direction, to report on some mineral properties far afield in Rhodesia. Thence, he had come down country, after eighteen months’ hard work and excellent pay in the unkempt but lovely wilderness of Mashonaland. He was now resting a while in Kimberley, taking a careful survey of the diamond fields, and making himself acquainted with that singular formation in which the rarest gems in the world have their resting place. He had seen De Beers and its marvels, looked at Kimberley, Du Toits Pan, Bultfontein, and Wesselton Mines, run across to the rich Jagersfontein deposits in the Orange Free State, and watched the motley assortment of miners at work on the alluvial diggings along the Vaal River. One evening at the Central Hotel, just before dinner, Ralph had run up against an old schoolfellow, who had been with him at Haileybury nine years before, just in from the veldt, hard, sun-burnt, and vigorous. The meeting had been a delightful one, and over an excellent dinner the two friends—for they had been great chums at school—renewed old days and exchanged their recent experiences. Jimmy Fielding had just come in from his cattle farm near Mosita, in British Beehuanaland, where for the last four years he and a brother of his had been making themselves a comfortable home and running stock with a fair amount of success. He was now in Kimberley for a few days to make various purchases required on the farm, and especially to order a light American windmill pump required for a new and permanent water supply on the driest and most distant part of their 12,000 acre run. “And now, old chap,” said Fielding to his friend, over their after-dinner smoke, by which time they had brought their careers and their doings almost completely up to date, “what are you going to do with yourself!” “Well, Jimmy,” returned Ralph Barnard, “I’ve finished my survey of diamonds, and the diamond industry. Some day I hope my experience will be useful to me. It’s a wonderfully fascinating business. I think I shall now treat myself to a couple of months’ holiday. I’ve had eighteen months of real hard work, and I’ve done very well for myself—much better than I did in Mexico. Gold and diamonds are better than silver, and this country is thoroughly awake and alive after its long sleep, which Mexico is not. I believe there are immense deposits of minerals —gold, diamonds, copper, iron, coal, and so forth—hidden away in South Africa, and only waiting to be discovered and opened up. I thought of taking a couple of months off and going up into the Kalahari, which nobody seems to look at. I can get some fair shooting there, and have a general look round. Where ean I fit out a waggon from best? Mafeking, I suppose!”

“My dear chap,” answered Fielding, eagerly, “I’m the very man for you. lour proposition just exactly fits in with my own ideas. Come up to our farm and have a look round there for a fortnight. I can give you lots at bird shooting and show you a fair amount of .small buck. Then, I’ll go with you to the Kalahari. We’ll treld up towards Lehutitu, and you shall shoot koodoo, gemsbok, hartebeest, springbok, blue wildebeest, and perhaps —if we get far enough—eland and giraffe. I’ve long wanted to have a look' at the inner Kalahari country—there’s splendid ranching ground there—and we’ll fit out my waggon and do the thing comfortably. I’ve got an excellent Vaalpens herdsman, who knows the country, and we’ll have a real good time. You mustn’t dream of saying no. You’ll come, won’t you?” "Yes, Jimmy— ’’ returned his school, plate, looking into his friend’s keen and excited face with a smile of amusement, "I see you’re just as much an enthusiast as you were in the old days. Of course I’ll come. When can we start !” "Splendid,” ejaculated Fielding. “I’ll be ready in three days. You’ll have to buy a couple of decent ponies; we'll get them on the morning market to-mor-row or next day, and then we’ll be off. What guns have you got ?” “A sporting .303,” rejoined his friend, “a Gibbs .450, and a 12 bore shot gun. I’ve used them all in Mashonaland and they’re all right.” "Righto!” added Fielding. “You can’t want a better battery. We’ll get fresh ammunition and then—Hey! for. the great Kalahari oh, with your gun and your rifle handy oh! Never was so pleased in all my life! My word, we shall have a royal time!” In three days, as he had promised, Fielding had completed his business iij Kimberley. They had secured a coupla of excellent ponies, pt. £lB and £ Iff apiece respectively. Both of these were well broken to the gun; one of them had been in the hunting veldt, and they were both typical, hard-bitten South African nags, just in from the country, and in good condition. They trained up at Setlagoli, where Fielding’s Cape cart and a pair of horses was awaiting him. Inspanning Ralph’s new purchase, they drove their capital team of four through the pleasant country of British Beehuanaland for a couple of days, passing Mosita and its fail - valley, and Kudunquo Laagte and its crystal pool, until at length they reached the Fieldings’ homestead. Here they were greeted by Jimmy’s younger brother, Jack, in the heartiest fashion. The life of the South African pastoral farmer is a quiet one, and a fresh face> especially when that face belongs to an old friend and schoolfellow, is a rare pleasure in the vast unpeopled solitudes of the wild veldt. And yet it is good for men to conquer nature and live thus in the wilderness —that is if they have thq right stuff in them. Ralph Barnard 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 shoot and ride and plough, spoor, lost stock, and break and span in oxen almost as well as Boers; they ly understood stock; they had built anti; ■thatched—much of it with their own hands—a comfortable four-roomed homestead; broken rich ground in a vailed

near, where they grow oate and mealies, and the fruit trees planted near the house, vines, peaches, oranges, apricots, and quinces, were prospering, some of them even already bearing fruit. The two brothers had in effect triumphed over the bulk of the difficulties that had originally beset them. They had got through the dread scourge of rinderpest with little loss, that was a stroke of luck, as they were the first to admit—• aial were now on the high road to prosperity. Markets were growing, and their stock fetched magnificent prices amid the general scarcity of trek and slaughter oxen.

After a most pleasant fortnight, spent on Springhaan Vlakte, for so some wandering Boer pioneer had first christened the place, Ralph aud the elder Fielding trekked away for the Kalahari. They passed the big native town of Morokweng, and then, striking north-westward, crossed the dry bed of the Molopo, and entered upon the almost unknown spaces of the Kalahari. Here they enjoyed excellent soort.

One lay they came across a troop of twelve gemsbok, those magnificent, longhomed 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 mounted, galloped up to a heavy bull, now tailing, aud brought him down. Ralph Barnard rode steadily on in the rear of the rest of the herd. He had, looking back, witnessed his friend’s success. But his time had not yet come. He gazed anxiously ahead at the troop of great, ash-coloured antelopes that still held their lead. Would they never give in His pony still strode gallantly under him; but he was an eleven-stone-man; he rode 13 stone, even with hi slight .303 rifle, and the good beast eould not compass more than a few more miles of veldt.

In another two miles he had urged his pony to within less than 100 yards of a magnificent cow. carrying the longest horns in the troop, and fired his shot. His bullet went true, but it struck the gemsbok too far track, hitting her in

the ribs, instead of behind the shoulder. Still she was hit; she staggered visibly to the shot, but with the marvellous vitality of her desert-race, pressed on. The white slaver, stringing from her lips and flying across her shoulders, was now stained with red. Her gallop became more laboured, her race was run. She stayed on with marvellous stoutness for another three miles, and then, her pursuer having crept up within thirty yards, she halted suddenly, swung round in her tracks, and fronted him. With another bullet he laid her low. She was a magnificent specimen; her horns measured 45 inches—almost a record —and, as Ralph gazed, he could scarcely admire sufficiently her wonderful colouring and markings—vinous - ash, snow - white and black —and her noble proportions. Nearly three hours later the waggon arrived on the scene; Jimmy Fielding turned up with his trophy and a quantity of meat, mutual eongratulat’t-ns were exchanged, and the eamp was formed for the night. As luck would have it, the chase had led them into a laagte, or shadow valley, in which, long ages before, a stream had once flowed. Here a pool of water, the last remnant of the summer rains, stood in a hollow hard by. It was a wonderful find and their anxieties were at once removed. They cleaned and filled their barrels, the oxen and horses, the hunters enjoyed a delightful wash. They spent a merry evening by a blazing fire of Vaal bush and thorn timber; their men had a great feast of gemsbok meat; all was contentment.

When Ralph Barnard woke at dawn next morning he was astonished to hear the sound of strange voices. Looking forth from the waggon he saw |t>ther two waggons standing outspanne 1 near. Many oxen were also grazing in the veldt around. The figures of men, women and children—manifestly those of Boers—were scattered about. Just then Fielding came up. “Hallo, Jimmy!” exclaimed Ralph. “What the dickens does all this mean, and who on earth are these people?” “Why, it’s a rum thing that we should have run up against anbody in this desert,” returned his friend. “But they’re Trek Boers, returning from the

Portuguese country beyond Ova mpoland —Mossaiiirihs way. They came up by Lake Ngaiui and are taking a short rut over the Kalahari. Poor devils, they’ve all had fever at Okavango, and some of the children are still down with it. Come and have a look at them.” Ralph scrambled out of his blankets, had a wash in a bucket of water, and walked with his friend over to the Boer encampment. They were a travelworn lot, in ti’uth. There were three families of. them, sixteen .souls in all, and all showed manifest signs of the fevers, privations, and hardships that they had passed through. One of the women, a troubled-looking but still strong ami buxom vrouw, clad in a tattered gown and much bedraggled “kapje” (sunbonnet). came up to tin* Englishmen ami asked them jf they hail any medicines by them. Two >f her children suffered much 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 the heart of the careworn vrouw by handing her a supply ample for immediate ■wants and accompanying her to the waggon to administer the first dose and have a look at the children. He spoke a fair amount of Dutch, picked up in Ala-honalaud. and made clear to the mother how and when the remedies were to be administered. All that day and all the next the Trek Boers stood outspanned. They had got out their little chairs and waggon tables; their cocks and hens were picking up their food about the camp; even a cat and her kittens had survived the trek and were sunning themselves comfortably in the pleasant heat. The Englishmen supplied thi- motley party with various things which the poor travel-stained and spiritless folk lacked, meal, sugar, tinned milk, coffee and tobacco; godsends, indeed, after such a journey. Late in the afternoon of the second day the Boers in spanned and set forth again. They were desperately’ in haste to reach once more their beloved Transvaal, from which they had trekked with such high hopes years before. Just before they quitted the

laagte Vrouw Cellicrs came from her waggon to siy good-bye aud renew her thanks to Ralph Barnard for h’j gift of medicine. She had a dead «m! with her and a pair of horns. She pressed these upon the Englishman. “You have been a good friend to me.” she said. "I never knew you Eng ish folk could be so kind. It i*» little I can do in return. But here is my best fowl, which I have killed for you. Von may l»ke it for your supper to-night. And there is a pair of Water Koodoo horns, which my ‘‘man thought you might like Situtunga, the Lake lx.it firs eall them; they are found only beyond the lake and are scarce buck.” Ralph ex pre-set I his thanks warmly. They shook hands and parte«l with real regret and the trekkers moved away south-westward. "Not half a bad sort, was she. Jimmy ?” said he. when they had gone. "Actually she ma <le the discovery that there are as many as two decent Eng lish folk in thfc world.” lie picked up the dead fowl and began to pluck it. “Jimmy.” he went on. "I think we’ll have chicken for supper to-night. This seems quite a good one. and it will he a bit of a change from game meat.” The feathers were at length all plucked. “What a deuce of a crop the beggar has got.” he continued. "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. (hie of these struck his fancy. It was a curious whitish looking pebble, about the size of a large pea. and octagonal in form. "By all that’-, precious, Jimmy.” burst out Ralph, after looking hard at the pel) ble again, and turning it over and over in his palm, “here’s a find! It’s a diamond, and of tine water.” ‘‘Rats’ old chap!” grunted his friend, rising, nevertheless, from his waggon chair and coming up. He look the stone and inspected it carefully and curiously. "Well.” he said, "it might be a diamond. But how in the name of fortune could such a thing got here? lt*s impossible. Do you suppo-o 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, within the last two days. It’s a diamond, and where that came form there are more.” Suddenly some reminiscence flashed across his mind. He looked round about the eamp, 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 clwinge coming over his countenance,

"the old gipsy woman was right. Her prophecy was a true one. Here is my luck, in this Laagte here. There is the deer with the striped face she spoke of—only it happens to be an antelope. Here is the very country she saw. Jimmy, I solemnly believe we’ve run our noses up against a big fortune!” "I think you’ve gone clean daft, old chap." said Fielding, sedately. Ralph explained. Ho told his comrade of the meeting with the gipsy woman, and of her curious propehey. Still Fielding remained unconvinced, ironical, a mere scoffer.

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

On various pretexts they kept tneir natives servants out in the veldt, hunting. herding the oxen, and exploring the route in front of them for the next three days, during which they themselves made a complete exploration of the shallow valley—already they called it “Gemsbok Laagte”—in which they' stood. Not only did they find plenty of indications of a diamondiferous formation—red sand,

‘yellow ground,” surface shales, surrounding basalt, and so forth—but they found yet more diamonds, to lhe number of nine stones, varying in size from a buck-shot to a hazel out. A mine was there beneath them, beyond all shadow of a doubt.

These events happened in the spring of 1899. The Boer War ,in winch Ralph Barnard and his two friends fought in. the ranks of the Imperial Light Horse, intervened and stayed all further work at Gemsbok Laagte >e- —roe long years. But in 1903 the Gemsbok Laagte Mine was thoroughly explored and opened up. 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 Fieldiftg-par-ticipated £in*his brother’s half sliaret of the good fortune —are already' rich lift'n. From only a small portion of his syndicate shares Ralph Larfiard realised 000 in cash. Not only- has fortune smiled, on his affairs financially, but he lias been able to persuade a certain fair girl-— none other than Hilda Mannering—to share his future with him.

'lhe old gipsy woman, Hester Cooper, who so strangely foretold the luck of Gemsbok Laagte, did not live to see her prophecy fulfilled. She died in the winter of 1901. But Ralph Barnard’s pro.mise to her has not been forgotten. One spring, when the cowslips bloomed, again rm the pleasant slopes below the Long Man of Wilmington, the gipsy family appeared with a very handsome new van, decorated in the most magnificent and resplendent style that the gipsy mind could conceive or suggest. A pair of strong and good-looking horses drew this palace of delight on to the Common. In this and other Ways the kith and kin of the old Romany woman have participated in the fortune so singularly predicted bv her.