IV.

IV.Why the Hyena is Lame.“It was Tante Hyena that Jakhals cheated more than anyone,” said Outa. “She always forgot about the last time he had played a trick on her, so she was quite ready to believe him when he came along with another story. Some peopleareso, my baasjes. P’raps it’s kindness, p’raps it’s only stupidness; Outa doesn’t know.“One day Jakhals and Hyena were out walking together when a white cloud came up behind the kopjes and floated over the veld quite close to them. It was a nice thick cloud, just like white fat, and Jakhals climbed on to it and sat looking down over the edge. Then he bit pieces out of it, and ate them.“‘Arré! but this white fat is nice,’ he said.’N-yum, n-yum, n-yum,’ and he chewed round the cloud like a caterpillar chews a leaf.“Hyena licked her lips and looked up at him.“‘Throw me down some, please,’ she said.“‘Ach! my Brown Sister, will I then be so greedy as to throw you down little bits? Wait till I get down, and then I’ll help you up to eat for yourself. But come a little nearer so that you can catch me when I jump.’“So Hyena stood ready, and Jakhals jumped in such a way that he knocked her into the sand. He fell soft, because he was on top, but foei! poor Hyena had all the breath knocked out of her and she was covered with dust.“‘Ach! but I am clumsy!’ said Jakhals; ‘but never mind, now I’ll help you.’“So when she had got up and dusted herself, he helped her to climb on to the cloud. There she sat, biting pieces off and eating them, ‘N-yum, n-yum, n-yum, it’s just like white fat!’“After a time she called out, ‘Grey Brother, I’ve had enough. I want to come down. Please catch me when I jump.’“‘Ach, certainly Brown Sister, come on. Just see how nicely I’ll catch you. So-o-o.’“He held out his arms, but just as Hyena jumped he sprang to one side, calling out, ‘Ola! Ola! a thorn has pricked me. What shall I do? what shall I do?’ and he hopped about holding one leg up.“Woops! Down fell Brown Sister, and as she fell she put out her left leg to save herself, but it doubled up under her and was nearly broken. She lay in a bundle in the sand, crying, ‘My leg is cracked! my leg is cracked!’“Jakhals came along very slowly—jump, jump, on three legs. Surely the thorn, that wasn’t there, was hurting him very much!“‘Oo! oo!’ cried Hyena, ‘help me up, Grey Brother. My leg is broken.’“‘And mine has a thorn in it. Foei toch, my poor sister! How can the sick help the sick? The only plan is for us to get homein the best way we can. Good-bye, and I will visit you to-morrow to see if you are all right.’“And off he went—jump, jump, on three legs—very slowly; but as soon as Old Brown Sister could not see him, he put down the other one and—sh-h-h-h—he shot over the veld and got home just in time to have a nice supper of young ducks that Mrs. Jakhals and the children had caught at Oubaas van Niekerk’s dam.“But poor Brown Sister lay in the sand crying over her sore places, and from that day she walks lame, because her left hind foot is smaller than the right one.”11The Hyena, on first starting, appears lame in the hind legs—a fact accounted for by the Hottentots in the foregoing fable.V.Who was the Thief?“Yes, my baasjes,sowas Oom Jakhals: he always made as if he forgot all about what he had done, and he made as if he thought all the others forgot too, quick-quick. He is maar so schelm.”Here Outa took full advantage of the pinch of snuff he held between his right forefinger and thumb, sneezed with evident enjoyment two or three times, and continued:“When Jakhals thought Hyena was quite well, he went to visit her.“‘It’s very dull here in the veld,’ he said, ‘and food is so scarce, so I’m going to hire myself to a farmer. He’ll give me lots to eat and drink, and when I’m nice and fat I’llcome home again. Would you like to go too, Brown Sister?’“Hyena smacked her lips when she heard about the nice things to eat. She thought it a very good plan. So they went to a farm, and Jakhals talked so nicely that the farmer hired them both to work for him.“Ach! it was a beautiful place; lots of chickens and little ducks, and Afrikander sheep with large fat tails that could be melted out for soap and candles, and eggs, and doves and pigeons—all things that Jakhals liked. He just felt in his stomach that he was going to have a jolly life.“During the day Jakhals peeped all about, in this corner, in that corner, and he found out where the farmer kept the nice fat that was melted out of the sheep’s tails. In the middle of the night, when all the people were fast asleep, he got up and went quietly, my baasjes, quietly, like a shadow on the ground, to the place where the fat was. He took a big lump and smeared it all over Brown Sister’s tail while she was asleep. Then heate all that was left—n-yum, n-yum, n-yum—and went to sleep in the waggon-house.“Early in the morning, when the farmer went out to milk the cows, he missed the fat.“‘Lieve land! Where is all my fat?’ he said. ‘It must be that vagabond Jakhals. But wait, I’ll get him!’“He took a thick riem and his sjambok, and went to the waggon-house to catch Jakhals and give him a beating. But when he asked about the fat, Jakhals spoke in a little, little voice.“‘Ach no, Baas! Would I then do such an ugly thing? And look at my tail. There’s no fat on it. The one whose tail is full of fat is the thief.’“He turned round and waved his tail in the farmer’s face, and anyone could easily see that there was no fat on it.“‘But the fat is gone,’ said the farmer, ‘someonemust have stolen it,’ and he went on hunting, hunting in the waggon-house.“At last he came to where Hyena wassleeping, just like a baby, baasjes, so nicely, and snoring a little: not the loud snoring like sawing planks—gorr-korrr, gorr-korr—but nice soft snoring like people do when they sleep very fast—see-uw, see-uw. It is the deepest sleep when a person snores see-uw, see-uw. Hyena’s head was on some chaff, and her tail was sticking out behind her, stiff with fat!“‘Aha! here is the thief,’ said the farmer, and he began to tie the riem round her.“Old Brown Sister sat up and rubbed her eyes. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked. ‘I had a beautiful dream. I dreamt I was eating fat the whole night, and——’“‘And so you were—myfat,’ said the farmer, and he pulled the rope tighter. ‘And now I’m going to teach you not to steal again.’“Poor old Brown Sister jumped about when she found out what he was going to do; she ran round and round the waggon-house trying to get away; she called out, and she called out that she did not know about thefat, that she had never tasted it, and had never even seen it. But it was no good.“‘Look at your tail,’ said the farmer. ‘Will you tell me that your tail went by itself and rubbed itself in the fat?’“So he tied her to the waggon wheel and beat her, and beat her—ach! she was quite sore—and she screamed and screamed, and at last he drove her away from the farm.“Poor old Brown Sister! She didn’t even have the fat from her tail to eat, because, baasjes see, with the running round and the beating, it was all rubbed off. But she never went to live on a farm again; the veld was quite good enough for her.”“Is that the end, Outa?” asked Willem.“Yes, my baasje. It’s a bad end, but Outa can’t help it. It does maar end so.”“And where was Jakhals all the time?” enquired Pietie, severely.“Jakhals, my baasje, was sitting on the waggon saying his prayers—so, my baasjes.” Outa put his crooked hands together and casthis twinkling eyes upwards till only the yellows showed.“‘Bezie, bezie, brame,Hou jouw handjes same.’1“And every time Hyena screamed, Jakhals begged her not to steal again, but to try and behave like a good Christian.”“ButJakhalswas the thief,” said little Jan, indignantly. “He was always the wicked one, and he was never punished. How was that, Outa?”A whimsical smile played over the old man’s face, and though his eyes danced as wickedly as ever, his voice was sober as he answered.“Ach! my little master, how can Outa tell? It is maar so in this old world. It’s like the funny thing Baas Willem saw in the Kaap,2that runs down a place so quickly that it just runs up on the other side, andthenit can’t stop, but it has to run down again, andso it keeps on—up and down, up and down.”“You mean the switchback?” asked Willem.“Ach, yes! baasje, Outa means so. And in the world it is the same—up and down, up and down. And often the good ones are down and the bad ones are up. But the thing—Outa can’t get the name right—goes on, and it goes on, and by-and-by the good ones are up and the bad ones are down.”“But Jakhals seemed always to be up,” remarked Willem.“Yes, my baasje,” said the old man, soberly. “Jakhals seemed always to be up. It goes so sometimes, it goes so,” but his eyes suddenly had a far-away look, and one could not be certain that he was thinking of Jakhals.1“Berry, berry, blackberry,Hold your hands together.”2The Kaap—Cape Town.VI.The Sun.A Bushman Legend.Outa, having disposed of his nightly tot, held his crooked hands towards the cheerful blaze and turned his engaging smile alternately on it and his little masters.“Ach! what it is to keep a bit of the Sun even when the Sun is gone! Long ago Outa’s people, the Bushmen, did not know about fire. No, my baasjes, when the Big Fire, that makes the world warm and bright, walked across the sky, they were happy. They hunted, and danced, and feasted. They shot the fine big bucks with their little poisoned arrows, and they tore pieces off and ate the flesh with the red blood dripping from it: they had no fire to make it dry up. Andthe roots and eintjes that they dug out with their sharp stones—those, too, they ate just as they were. They did not cook, for they did not know how to make fire. But when the white man came, then they learnt. Baasjes see, Outa’s head is big—bigger than the Baas’s head—but that does not help. It’s the inside that matters, and the white man’s head inside here”—Outa tapped his wrinkled forehead—“Alla! but it can hold a lot!“In the olden days, when Outa’s people were cold they crept into caves and covered themselves with skins, for they had no fire to sit by. Yes, they were sorry when the Old Man in the sky put down his arms and lay down to sleep.”“What Old Man?” asked Pietie. “Do you mean the Sun?”“Aja! Don’t baasjes then know that the Sun was once a man? It was long, long ago, before Outa’s people lived in the world: perhaps in the days of the Early Race that were before even the Flat Bushmen, who were the first people we really knowanything about. In those days at a certain place lived a man, from whose armpits brightness streamed. When he lifted one arm, the place on that side of him was light; when he lifted the other arm, the place onthatside of him was light; but when he lifted both arms, the light shone all around about him. But it only shone around the place where he lived; it did not reach to other places.“Sometimes the people asked him to stand on a stone, so that his light could go farther; and sometimes he climbed on a kopje and lifted up his arms: ach! then the light streamed out far, far, and lighted up the veld for miles and miles. For the higher he went, the farther the light shone.“Then the people said: ‘We see now, the higher he goes the farther his light shines. If only we could put him very high, his light would go out over the whole world.’“So they tried to make a plan, and at last a wise old woman called the young people together and said: ‘You must go to this man from whose armpits the light streams.When he is asleep, you must go; and the strongest of you must take him under the armpits, and lift him up, and swing him to and fro—so—so—and throw him as high as you can into the sky, so that he may be above the kopjes, lifting his arms to let the light stream down to warm the earth and make green things to grow in summer.’“So the young men went to the place where the man lay sleeping. Quietly they went, my baasjes, creeping along in the red sand so as not to wake him. He was in a deep sleep, and before he could wake the strong young men took him under the armpits and swung him to and fro, as the wise old woman had told them. Then, as they swung him, they threw him into the air, high, high, and there he stuck.“The next morning, when he awoke and stretched himself, lifting up his arms, the light streamed out from under them and brightened all the world, warming the earth, and making the green things grow. And so it went on day after day. When he put uphis arms, it was bright, it was day. When he put down one arm, it was cloudy, the weather was not clear. And when he put down both arms and turned over to go to sleep, there was no light at all: it was dark; it was night. But when he awoke and lifted his arms, the day came again and the world was warm and bright.“Sometimes he is far away from the earth. Then it is cold: it is winter. But when he comes near, the earth gets warm again; the green things grow and the fruit ripens: it is summer. And so it goes on to this day, my baasjes: the day and night, summer and winter, and all because the Old Man with the bright armpits was thrown into the sky.”“But the Sun is not a man, Outa,” said downright Willem, “and he hasn’t any arms.”“No, my baasje, not now. He is not a man any more. But baasjes must remember how long he has been up in the sky—spans, and spans, andspansof years, always rolling round, and rolling round, from the time hewakes in the morning till he lies down to sleep at the other side of the world. And with the rolling, baasjes, he has got all rounder and rounder, and the light that at first came only from under his arms has been rolled right round him, till now he is a big ball of light, rolling from one side of the sky to the other.”Cousin Minnie, who had been listening in a desultory way to the fireside chatter, as she wrote at the side-table, started and leant toward the little group; but a single glance was enough to show that so interested were the children in the personal aspect of the tale that there was no fear of confusion arising in their minds from Outa’s decided subversion of an elementary fact which she had been at some pains to get them to understand and accept.“And his arms, Outa,” inquired little Jan, in his earnest way, “do theynevercome out now?”Outa beamed upon him proudly. “Ach! that ismylittle master! Always to ask abig thing! Yes, baasje,sometimesthey come out. When it is a dark day, then he has put his arms out. He is holding them down, and spreading his hands before the light, so that it can’t shine on the world. And sometimes, just before he gets up in the morning, and before he goes to sleep at night, haven’t baasjes seen long bright stripes coming from the round ball of light?”“Yes, yes,” assented his little listeners, eagerly.“Those are the long fingers of the Sun. His arms are rolled up inside the fiery ball, but he sticks his long fingers out and they make bright roads into the sky, spreading out all round him. The Old Man is peeping at the earth through his fingers. Baasjes must count them next time he sticks them out, and see if they are all there—eight long ones, those are the fingers; and two short ones for the thumbs.”Outa’s knowledge of arithmetic was limited to the number of his crooked digits, and the smile with which he announced the extent ofhis mathematical attainments was a ludicrous cross between proud triumph and modest reluctance.“When he lies down, he pulls them in. Then all the world grows dark and the people go to sleep.”“But, Outa, it isn’t always dark at night,” Pietie reminded him. “There are the Stars and the Moon, you know.”“Ach, yes! The little Stars and the Lady Moon. Outa will tell the baasjes about them another night, but now he must go quick—quick and let Lys rub his back with buchu. When friend Old Age comes the back bends and the bones get stiff, and the rheumatism—foei! but it can pinch! Therefore, my baasjes, Outa cooks bossies from the veld to rub on—buchu and kookamakranka and karroo bossies. They are all good, but buchu is the best. Yes, buchu for the outside, and the Baas’s fire-water for the inside!”He looked longingly at the cupboard, but wood and glass are unresponsive until actedon by human agency; so, possessing no “Open, Sesame” for that unyielding lock, Outa contented himself by smacking his lips as he toddled away.VII.The Stars and the Stars’ Road.Darkly-blue and illimitable, the arc of the sky hung over the great Karroo like a canopy of softest velvet, making a deep, mysterious background for the myriad stars, which twinkled brightly at a frosty world.The three little boys, gathered at the window, pointed out to each other the constellations with which Cousin Minnie had made them familiar, and were deep in a discussion as to the nature and number of the stars composing the Milky Way when Outa shuffled in.“Outa, do you think there are a billion stars up there in the Milky Way?” asked Willem.“A billion, you know,” explained Pietie,“is a thousand million, and it would take months to count even one million.”“The Stars’ Road”“The Stars’ Road”Face page 64]“Aja, baasje,” said the old man readily, seizing, with native adroitness, the unknown word and making it his own, “then there willsurelybe a billion stars up there. Perhaps,” he added, judicially considering the matter, “twobillion, but no one knows, because no one can ever count them. They are too many. And to think that that bright road in the sky is made of wood ashes, after all.”He settled himself on his stool, and his little audience came to attention.“Yes, my baasjes,” he went on, “long, long ago, the sky was dark at night when the Old Man with the bright armpits lay down to sleep, but people learned in time to make fires to light up the darkness; and one night a girl, who sat warming herself by a wood fire, played with the ashes. She took the ashes in her hands and threw them up to see how pretty they were when they floated in the air. And as they floated away she put green bushes on the fire and stirred it with astick. Bright sparks flew out and went high, high, mixing with the silver ashes, and they all hung in the air and made a bright road across the sky. And there it is to this day. Baasjes call it the Milky Way, but Outa calls it the Stars’ Road.“Ai! but the girl was pleased! She clapped her hands and danced, shaking herself like Outa’s people do when they are happy, and singing:—‘The little stars! The tiny stars!They make a road for other stars.Ash of wood-fire! Dust of the Sun!They call the Dawn when Night is done!’“Then she took some of the roots she had been eating and threw them into the sky, and there they hung and turned into large stars. The old roots turned into stars that gave a red light, and the young roots turned into stars that gave a golden light. There they all hung, winking and twinkling and singing. Yes, singing, my baasjes, and this is what they sang:—‘We are children of the Sun!It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!Him we call when Night is done!It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!Bright we sail across the skyBy the Stars’ Road, high, so high;And we, twinkling, smile at you,As we sail across the blue!It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!’“Baasjes know, when the stars twinkle up there in the sky they are like little children nodding their heads and saying, ‘It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!’” At each repetition Outa nodded and winked, and the children, with antics of approval, followed suit.“Baasjes have sometimes seen a star fall?” Three little heads nodded in concert.“When a star falls,” said the old man impressively, “it tells us someone has died. For the star knows when a person’s heart fails and the person dies, and it falls from the sky to tell those at a distance that someone they know has died.1“One star grew and grew till he was much larger than the others. He was the Great Star, and, singing, he named the other stars. He called each one by name, till they all had their names, and in this way they knew that he was the Great Star. No other could have done so. Then when he had finished, they all sang together and praised the Great Star, who had named them.2“Now, when the day is done, they walk across the sky on each side of the Stars’ Road. It shows them the way. And when Night is over, they turn back and sail again by the Stars’ Road to call the Daybreak, that goes before the Sun. The Star that leads the way is a big bright star. He is called the Dawn’s-Heart Star, and in the dark, dark hour, before the Stars have called the Dawn, he shines—ach! baasjes, he is beautiful to behold! The wife and the child of the Dawn’s-Heart Star are pretty, too, but not so big and bright as he. They sail on infront, and then they wait—wait for the other Stars to turn back and sail along the Stars’ Road, calling, calling the Dawn, and for the Sun to come up from under the world, where he has been lying asleep.“They call and sing, twinkling as they sing:—‘We call across the sky,Dawn! Come, Dawn!You, that are like a young maid newly risen,Rubbing the sleep from your eyes!You, that come stretching bright hands to the sky,Pointing the way for the Sun!Before whose smile the Stars faint and grow pale,And the Stars’ Road melts away.Dawn! Come Dawn!We call across the sky,And the Dawn’s-Heart Star is waiting.It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!’“So they sing, baasjes, because they know they are soon going out.“Then slowly the Dawn comes, rubbing her eyes, smiling, stretching out bright fingers, chasing the darkness away. The Stars grow faint and the Stars’ Road fades, while theDawn makes a bright pathway for the Sun. At last he comes with both arms lifted high, and the brightness, streaming from under them, makes day for the world, and wakes people to their work and play.“But the little Stars wait till he sleeps again before they begin their singing. Summer is the time when they sing best, but even now, if baasjes look out of the window they will see the Stars, twinkling and singing.”The children ran to the window and gazed out into the starlit heavens. The last sight Outa had, as he drained the soopje glass the Baas was just in time to hand him, was of three little heads bobbing up and down in time to the immemorial music of the Stars, while little Jan’s excited treble rang out: “Yes, it’s quite true, Outa. Theydosay, ‘It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!’”1It is both curious and interesting to find the identical belief obtaining amongst races so widely different as the Scandinavians of Northern Europe and the Bushmen of South Africa.—See Hans Andersen’sLittle Match Girl: “Her Grandmother had told her that when a star fell down a soul mounted up to God.”2“When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy.”—Job xxxviii. 7.VIII.Why the Hare’s Nose is Slit.The curtains had not yet been drawn nor the shutters closed, and little Jan looked with wide serious eyes at the full moon sailing serenely in the cold sky. Then he sighed as though thoughts too big for expression stirred within him, and turned absently towards the purring fire.“And why does the big man make such a sighing?” asked Outa Karel. “It is like the wind in the mealie land at sun-under.”Little Jan’s eyes slowly withdrew their gaze from some inward vision and became conscious of the old native. “Outa,” he said, “why is the moon so far away, and so beautiful, and so golden?”“Ach! to hear him now! How can Outatell? It is maar so. Just like grass is green and fire is hot, so the Moon is far away and beautiful and golden. But she is a cruel lady sometimes, too, and it is through her that the poor Little Hare runs about with a slit in his nose to-day.”“Tell us, Outa.” Little Jan dropped on to the rug beside the basket of mealie-cobs, and the others edged nearer.“And why do you call the Moon a lady?” asked Pietie of the inquiring mind.“But doesn’t baasje know that the Moon is a lady? O yes, and for all her beauty she can be cross and cruel sometimes like other ladies, as you will hear.”“Long, long ago, when the world was quite young, the Lady Moon wanted someone to take a message to Men. She tried first one creature and then another, but no! they were all too busy, they couldn’t go. At last she called the Crocodile. He is very slow and not much good, but the Lady Moon thought she would pinch his tail and make him go quickly. So she said to him: ‘Godown to Men at once and give them this message: “As I die and, dying, live, so also shall you die, and, dying, live.”’“Baasjes know how the Moon is sometimes big and round——so”—and Outa’s diminutive hands described a wide circle and remained suspended in the air—“like she is now in the sky. Then every night she gets smaller and smaller, so—so—so—so—so——till——clap!”—the crooked fingers come together with a bang—“there’s no more Moon: she is dead. Then one night a silver horn hangs in the sky—thin, very thin. It is the new Moon that grows, and grows, and gets beautiful and golden.” By the aid of the small claw-like hands the moon grew to the full before the children’s interested eyes. “And so it goes on, always living, and growing, and dying, and living again.“So the Lady Moon pinched old Oom Crocodile’s tail, and he gave one jump and off he started with the message. He went quickly while the Moon watched him, but soon he came to a bend in the road. Roundhe went with a great turn, for a Crocodile’s back is stiff like a plank, he can’t bend it; and then, when he thought he was out of sight, he went slower and slower—drif-draf-drippity-drif-draf, drif-draf-drippity-drif-draf, like a knee-haltered horse. He was toch too lazy.“All of a sudden there was a noise—sh-h-h-h-h—and there was the Little Hare. ‘Ha! ha! ha!’ he laughed, ‘what is the meaning of this drif-draf-drippity-drif-draf? Where are you going in such a hurry, Oom Crocodile?’“‘I can’t stop to speak to you, Neef Haasje,’ said Oom Crocodile, trying to look busy and to hurry up. ‘The Lady Moon has sent me with a message to Men.’“‘And what is the message, Oom Crocodile?’“‘It’s a very important one: “As I die and, dying, live, so also shall you die and, dying, live.”’“‘Ach, but that is a stupid message. And you can’t ever run, Oom, you are so slow.You can only go drif-draf-drippity-drif-draf like a knee-haltered horse, but I go sh-h-h-h-h like the wind. Give the message to me and I will take it.’“‘Very well,’ said the lazy Crocodile, ‘but you must say it over first and get it right.’“So Neef Haasje said the message over and over, and then—sh-h-h-h-h—he was off like the wind. Here he was! there he was! and you could only see the white of his tail and his little behind legs getting small in the distance.“At last he came to Men, and he called them together and said: ‘Listen, Sons of the Baboon, a wise man comes with a message. By the Lady Moon I am sent to tell you: “As I die and, dying, perish, so shall you also die and come wholly to an end.”’“Then Men looked at each other and shivered. All of a sudden the flesh on their arms was like goose-flesh. ‘What shall we do? What is this message that the Lady Moon has sent? “As I die and, dying,perish, so shall you also die and come wholly to an end.”’“They shivered again, and the goose-flesh crept right up their backs and into their hair, and their hair began to rise up on their heads just like—ach no, but Outa forgets, these baasjes don’t know how it is to feel so.” And the wide smile which accompanied these words hid the expression of sly teasing which sparkled in Outa’s dancing black eyes, for he knew what it was to be taken to task for impugning the courage of his young listeners.“But Neef Haasje did not care. He danced away on his behind legs, and laughed and laughed to think how he had cheated Men.“Then he returned again to the Moon, and she asked: ‘What have you said to Men?’“‘O, Lady Moon, I have given them your message: “Like as I die and, dying, perish, so also shall you die and come wholly to an end,” and they are all stiff with fright.Ha! ha! ha!’ Haasje laughed at the thought of it.“‘What! cried the Lady Moon, ‘what! did you tell them that? Child of the devil’s donkey!1you must be punished.’“Ach, but the Lady Moon was very angry. She took a big stick, a kierie—much bigger than the one Outa used to kill lions with when he was young—and if she could have hit him, then”—Outa shook his head hopelessly—“there would have been no more Little Hare: his head would have been cracked right through. But he is a slim kerel. When he saw the big stick coming near, one, two, three, he ducked and slipped away, and it caught him only on the nose.“Foei! but it was sore! Neef Haasje forgot that the Moon was a Lady. He yelled and screamed; he jumped high into the air; he jumped with all his four feet at once; and—scratch, scratch, scratch, hewas kicking, and hitting and clawing the Moon’s face till the pieces flew.“Then he felt better and ran away as hard as he could, holding his broken nose with both hands.“And that is why to-day he goes about with a split nose, and the golden face of the Lady Moon has long dark scars.“Yes, baasjes, fighting is a miserable thing. It does not end when the fight is over. Afterwards there is a sore place—ach, for so long!—and even when it is well, the ugly marks remain to show what has happened. The best, my little masters, is not to fight at all.”1According to a Hottentot legend, the hare is related to the donkey.IX.How the Jackal got his Stripe.“The Sun was a strange little child,” said Outa. “He never had any Pap-pa or Mam-ma. No one knew where he came from. He was just found by the roadside.“In the olden days when the men of the Ancient Race—the old, old people that lived so long ago—were trekking in search of game, they heard a little voice calling, calling. It was not a springbokkie, it was not a tarentaal, it was not a little ostrich. They couldn’t think what it was. But it kept on, it kept on.” Outa’s head nodded in time to his repetitions.“Why didn’t they go and look?” asked Willem.“They did, my baasje. They hunted aboutamongst the milk-bushes by the roadside, and at last under one of them they found a nice brown baby. He was lying quite still looking about him, not like a baby, baasjes, but like an old child, and sparks of light, as bright as the sparks from Outa’s tinderbox, seemed to fly out of his eyes. When he saw the men, he began calling again.“‘Carry me, carry me! Pick me up and carry me!’“‘Arré! he can talk,’ said the man. ‘What a fine little child! Where have your people gone? and why did they leave you here?’“But the little Sun wouldn’t answer them. All he said was, ‘Put me in your awa-skin. I’m tired; I can’t walk.’“One of the men went to take him up, but when he got near he said, ‘Soe! but he’s hot; the heat comes out of him.Iwon’t take him.’“‘How can you be so silly?’ said another man. ‘I’ll carry him.’“But when he got near, he started back. ‘Alla! what eyes! Fire comes out of them.’ And he, too, turned away.“Then a third man went. ‘He is very small,’ he said; ‘I can easily put him in my awa-skin.’ He stooped and took the little Sun under his arms.“‘Ohé! ohé! ohé!’ he cried, dropping the baby on to the red sand. ‘What is this for toverij! It is like fire under his arms. He burns me when I take him up.’“The others all came round to see. They didn’t cometoonear, my baasjes, because they were frightened, but they wanted to see the strange brown baby that could talk, and that burned like a fire.“All on a sudden he stretched himself; he turned his head and put up his little arms. Bright sparks flew from his eyes, and yellow light streamed from under his arms, and—hierr, skierr—the Men of the Early Race fell over each other as they ran through the milk-bushes back to the road. My! but they were frightened!“The women were sitting there with their babies on their backs, waiting for their husbands.“‘Come along! Hurry! hurry! See that you get away from here,’ said the men, without stopping.“The women began to run, too.“‘What was it? What did you find?’“‘A terrible something,’ said the men, still running. ‘It pretends to be a baby, but weknowit is amensevreter. There it lies in the sand, begging one of us to pick it up and put it in his awa-skin, but as soon as we go near, it tries to burn us; and if we don’t make haste and get away from here, it will certainly catch us.’“The women with their babies on their backs, flew”“The women with their babies on their backs, flew”Face page 81]“Then they ran faster than ever. Baasjes know—ach no!” corrected Outa, with a sly smile; “Outa means baasjes don’t know—how frightenness makes wings grow on people’s feet, so that they seem to fly. So the Men of the Early Race, and the women with their babies on their backs, flew, and very soon they were far from the place where the little Sun was lying.“But someone had been watching, my baasjes, watching from a bush near by. Itwas Jakhals, with his bright eyes and his sharp nose, and his stomach close to the ground. When the people had gone, he crept out to see what had made them run. Hardly a leaf stirred, not a sound was heard,sosoftly he crept along under the milk-bushes to where the little Sun lay.“‘Ach, what a fine little child has been left behind by the men!’ he said. ‘Now that is really a shame—that none of them would put it into his awa-skin.’“‘Carry me, carry me! Put me in your awa-skin,’ said the little Sun.“‘I haven’t got an awa-skin, baasje,’ said Jakhals, ‘but if you can hold on, I’ll carry you on my back.’“So Jakhals lay flat on his stomach, and the little Sun caught hold of his maanhaar, and rolled round on his back.“‘Where do you want to go?’ asked Jakhals.“‘There, where it far is,’ said the baby, sleepily.“Jakhals trotted off with his nose to theground and a sly look in his eye.Hedidn’t care where the baby wanted to go; he was just going to carry him off to the krantz where Tante and the young Jakhalses lived. If baasjes could have seen his face!Alle wereld!he was smiling, and when Oom Jakhals smiles, it is the wickedest sight in the world. He was very pleased to think what he was taking home; fat brown babies are as nice as fat sheep-tails, so he went along quite jolly.“But only at first. Soon his back began to burn where the baby’s arms went round it. The heat got worse and worse, until he couldn’t hold it out any longer.“‘Soe! Soe! Baasje burns me,’ he cried. ‘Sail down a little further, baasje, so that my neck can get cool.’“The little Sun slipped further down and held fast again, and Jakhals trotted on.“But soon he called out again, ‘Soe! Soe! Now the middle of my back burns. Sail down still a little further.’“The little Sun went further down andheld fast again.And so it went on. Every time Jakhals called out that he was burning, the baby slipped a little further, and a little further, till at last he had hold of Jakhals by the tail, and then he wouldn’t let go. Even when Jakhals called out, he held on, and Jakhals’s tail burnt and burnt. My! it was quite black!“‘Help! help!’ he screamed! ‘Ach, you devil’s child! Get off! Let go! I’ll punish you for this! I’ll bite you! I’ll gobble you up! My tail is burning! Help! Help!’ And he jumped, and bucked, and rushed about the veld, till at last the baby had to let go.“Then Jakhals voertsed1round, and ran at the little Sun to bite him and gobble him up. But when he got near, a funny thing happened, my baasjes. Yes truly, just when he was going to bite, he stopped halfway, and shivered back as if someone had beaten him. At first he had growled with crossness, but now he began to whine from frightenness.“And why was it, my baasjes? Because from under the baby’s arms streamed brightness and hotness, and out of the baby’s eyes came streaks of fire, so that Jakhals winked and blinked, and tried to make himself small in the sand. Every time he opened his eyes a little, just like slits, there was the baby sitting straight in front of him, staring at him so that he had to shut them again quick, quick.“‘Come and punish me,’ said the baby.“‘No, baasje, ach no!’ said Jakhals in a small, little voice, ‘why should I punish you?’“‘Come and bite me,’ said the baby.“‘No, baasje, no, I could never think of it.’ Jakhals made himself still a little smaller in the sand.“‘Come and gobble me up,’ said the baby.“Then Jakhals gave a yell and tried to crawl further back.“‘Such a fine little child,’ he said, trying to make his voice sweet, ‘who would ever do such a wicked thing?’“‘You would,’ said the little Sun. ‘When you had carried me safely to your krantz, you would have gobbled me up. You aretochso clever, Jakhals, but sometimes you will meet your match. Now, look at me well.’“Jakhals didn’t want to look, my baasjes, but it was just as if something made his eyes go open, and he lay there staring at the baby, and the baby stared at him—so, my baasjes, just so”—Outa stretched his eyes to their utmost and held each fascinated child in turn.“‘You’ll know me again when you see me,’ said the baby, ‘but never, never again will you be able to look me in the face. And now you cango.’“Fierce light shot from his eyes, and he blew at Jakhals with all his might; his breath was like a burning flame, and Jakhals, half dead with frightenness, gave a great howl and fled away over the vlakte.“From that day, my baasjes, he has a black stripe right down his back to the tip of his tail. And he cannot bear the Sun,but hides away all day with shut eyes, and only at night when the Old Man with the bright armpits has gone to sleep, does he come out to hunt and look for food, and play tricks on the other animals.”1Voertsed.—Evidently a word of Outa’s coining, meaning to jump round suddenly and violently.

IV.Why the Hyena is Lame.“It was Tante Hyena that Jakhals cheated more than anyone,” said Outa. “She always forgot about the last time he had played a trick on her, so she was quite ready to believe him when he came along with another story. Some peopleareso, my baasjes. P’raps it’s kindness, p’raps it’s only stupidness; Outa doesn’t know.“One day Jakhals and Hyena were out walking together when a white cloud came up behind the kopjes and floated over the veld quite close to them. It was a nice thick cloud, just like white fat, and Jakhals climbed on to it and sat looking down over the edge. Then he bit pieces out of it, and ate them.“‘Arré! but this white fat is nice,’ he said.’N-yum, n-yum, n-yum,’ and he chewed round the cloud like a caterpillar chews a leaf.“Hyena licked her lips and looked up at him.“‘Throw me down some, please,’ she said.“‘Ach! my Brown Sister, will I then be so greedy as to throw you down little bits? Wait till I get down, and then I’ll help you up to eat for yourself. But come a little nearer so that you can catch me when I jump.’“So Hyena stood ready, and Jakhals jumped in such a way that he knocked her into the sand. He fell soft, because he was on top, but foei! poor Hyena had all the breath knocked out of her and she was covered with dust.“‘Ach! but I am clumsy!’ said Jakhals; ‘but never mind, now I’ll help you.’“So when she had got up and dusted herself, he helped her to climb on to the cloud. There she sat, biting pieces off and eating them, ‘N-yum, n-yum, n-yum, it’s just like white fat!’“After a time she called out, ‘Grey Brother, I’ve had enough. I want to come down. Please catch me when I jump.’“‘Ach, certainly Brown Sister, come on. Just see how nicely I’ll catch you. So-o-o.’“He held out his arms, but just as Hyena jumped he sprang to one side, calling out, ‘Ola! Ola! a thorn has pricked me. What shall I do? what shall I do?’ and he hopped about holding one leg up.“Woops! Down fell Brown Sister, and as she fell she put out her left leg to save herself, but it doubled up under her and was nearly broken. She lay in a bundle in the sand, crying, ‘My leg is cracked! my leg is cracked!’“Jakhals came along very slowly—jump, jump, on three legs. Surely the thorn, that wasn’t there, was hurting him very much!“‘Oo! oo!’ cried Hyena, ‘help me up, Grey Brother. My leg is broken.’“‘And mine has a thorn in it. Foei toch, my poor sister! How can the sick help the sick? The only plan is for us to get homein the best way we can. Good-bye, and I will visit you to-morrow to see if you are all right.’“And off he went—jump, jump, on three legs—very slowly; but as soon as Old Brown Sister could not see him, he put down the other one and—sh-h-h-h—he shot over the veld and got home just in time to have a nice supper of young ducks that Mrs. Jakhals and the children had caught at Oubaas van Niekerk’s dam.“But poor Brown Sister lay in the sand crying over her sore places, and from that day she walks lame, because her left hind foot is smaller than the right one.”11The Hyena, on first starting, appears lame in the hind legs—a fact accounted for by the Hottentots in the foregoing fable.

IV.Why the Hyena is Lame.

“It was Tante Hyena that Jakhals cheated more than anyone,” said Outa. “She always forgot about the last time he had played a trick on her, so she was quite ready to believe him when he came along with another story. Some peopleareso, my baasjes. P’raps it’s kindness, p’raps it’s only stupidness; Outa doesn’t know.“One day Jakhals and Hyena were out walking together when a white cloud came up behind the kopjes and floated over the veld quite close to them. It was a nice thick cloud, just like white fat, and Jakhals climbed on to it and sat looking down over the edge. Then he bit pieces out of it, and ate them.“‘Arré! but this white fat is nice,’ he said.’N-yum, n-yum, n-yum,’ and he chewed round the cloud like a caterpillar chews a leaf.“Hyena licked her lips and looked up at him.“‘Throw me down some, please,’ she said.“‘Ach! my Brown Sister, will I then be so greedy as to throw you down little bits? Wait till I get down, and then I’ll help you up to eat for yourself. But come a little nearer so that you can catch me when I jump.’“So Hyena stood ready, and Jakhals jumped in such a way that he knocked her into the sand. He fell soft, because he was on top, but foei! poor Hyena had all the breath knocked out of her and she was covered with dust.“‘Ach! but I am clumsy!’ said Jakhals; ‘but never mind, now I’ll help you.’“So when she had got up and dusted herself, he helped her to climb on to the cloud. There she sat, biting pieces off and eating them, ‘N-yum, n-yum, n-yum, it’s just like white fat!’“After a time she called out, ‘Grey Brother, I’ve had enough. I want to come down. Please catch me when I jump.’“‘Ach, certainly Brown Sister, come on. Just see how nicely I’ll catch you. So-o-o.’“He held out his arms, but just as Hyena jumped he sprang to one side, calling out, ‘Ola! Ola! a thorn has pricked me. What shall I do? what shall I do?’ and he hopped about holding one leg up.“Woops! Down fell Brown Sister, and as she fell she put out her left leg to save herself, but it doubled up under her and was nearly broken. She lay in a bundle in the sand, crying, ‘My leg is cracked! my leg is cracked!’“Jakhals came along very slowly—jump, jump, on three legs. Surely the thorn, that wasn’t there, was hurting him very much!“‘Oo! oo!’ cried Hyena, ‘help me up, Grey Brother. My leg is broken.’“‘And mine has a thorn in it. Foei toch, my poor sister! How can the sick help the sick? The only plan is for us to get homein the best way we can. Good-bye, and I will visit you to-morrow to see if you are all right.’“And off he went—jump, jump, on three legs—very slowly; but as soon as Old Brown Sister could not see him, he put down the other one and—sh-h-h-h—he shot over the veld and got home just in time to have a nice supper of young ducks that Mrs. Jakhals and the children had caught at Oubaas van Niekerk’s dam.“But poor Brown Sister lay in the sand crying over her sore places, and from that day she walks lame, because her left hind foot is smaller than the right one.”1

“It was Tante Hyena that Jakhals cheated more than anyone,” said Outa. “She always forgot about the last time he had played a trick on her, so she was quite ready to believe him when he came along with another story. Some peopleareso, my baasjes. P’raps it’s kindness, p’raps it’s only stupidness; Outa doesn’t know.

“One day Jakhals and Hyena were out walking together when a white cloud came up behind the kopjes and floated over the veld quite close to them. It was a nice thick cloud, just like white fat, and Jakhals climbed on to it and sat looking down over the edge. Then he bit pieces out of it, and ate them.

“‘Arré! but this white fat is nice,’ he said.’N-yum, n-yum, n-yum,’ and he chewed round the cloud like a caterpillar chews a leaf.

“Hyena licked her lips and looked up at him.

“‘Throw me down some, please,’ she said.

“‘Ach! my Brown Sister, will I then be so greedy as to throw you down little bits? Wait till I get down, and then I’ll help you up to eat for yourself. But come a little nearer so that you can catch me when I jump.’

“So Hyena stood ready, and Jakhals jumped in such a way that he knocked her into the sand. He fell soft, because he was on top, but foei! poor Hyena had all the breath knocked out of her and she was covered with dust.

“‘Ach! but I am clumsy!’ said Jakhals; ‘but never mind, now I’ll help you.’

“So when she had got up and dusted herself, he helped her to climb on to the cloud. There she sat, biting pieces off and eating them, ‘N-yum, n-yum, n-yum, it’s just like white fat!’

“After a time she called out, ‘Grey Brother, I’ve had enough. I want to come down. Please catch me when I jump.’

“‘Ach, certainly Brown Sister, come on. Just see how nicely I’ll catch you. So-o-o.’

“He held out his arms, but just as Hyena jumped he sprang to one side, calling out, ‘Ola! Ola! a thorn has pricked me. What shall I do? what shall I do?’ and he hopped about holding one leg up.

“Woops! Down fell Brown Sister, and as she fell she put out her left leg to save herself, but it doubled up under her and was nearly broken. She lay in a bundle in the sand, crying, ‘My leg is cracked! my leg is cracked!’

“Jakhals came along very slowly—jump, jump, on three legs. Surely the thorn, that wasn’t there, was hurting him very much!

“‘Oo! oo!’ cried Hyena, ‘help me up, Grey Brother. My leg is broken.’

“‘And mine has a thorn in it. Foei toch, my poor sister! How can the sick help the sick? The only plan is for us to get homein the best way we can. Good-bye, and I will visit you to-morrow to see if you are all right.’

“And off he went—jump, jump, on three legs—very slowly; but as soon as Old Brown Sister could not see him, he put down the other one and—sh-h-h-h—he shot over the veld and got home just in time to have a nice supper of young ducks that Mrs. Jakhals and the children had caught at Oubaas van Niekerk’s dam.

“But poor Brown Sister lay in the sand crying over her sore places, and from that day she walks lame, because her left hind foot is smaller than the right one.”1

1The Hyena, on first starting, appears lame in the hind legs—a fact accounted for by the Hottentots in the foregoing fable.

1The Hyena, on first starting, appears lame in the hind legs—a fact accounted for by the Hottentots in the foregoing fable.

V.Who was the Thief?“Yes, my baasjes,sowas Oom Jakhals: he always made as if he forgot all about what he had done, and he made as if he thought all the others forgot too, quick-quick. He is maar so schelm.”Here Outa took full advantage of the pinch of snuff he held between his right forefinger and thumb, sneezed with evident enjoyment two or three times, and continued:“When Jakhals thought Hyena was quite well, he went to visit her.“‘It’s very dull here in the veld,’ he said, ‘and food is so scarce, so I’m going to hire myself to a farmer. He’ll give me lots to eat and drink, and when I’m nice and fat I’llcome home again. Would you like to go too, Brown Sister?’“Hyena smacked her lips when she heard about the nice things to eat. She thought it a very good plan. So they went to a farm, and Jakhals talked so nicely that the farmer hired them both to work for him.“Ach! it was a beautiful place; lots of chickens and little ducks, and Afrikander sheep with large fat tails that could be melted out for soap and candles, and eggs, and doves and pigeons—all things that Jakhals liked. He just felt in his stomach that he was going to have a jolly life.“During the day Jakhals peeped all about, in this corner, in that corner, and he found out where the farmer kept the nice fat that was melted out of the sheep’s tails. In the middle of the night, when all the people were fast asleep, he got up and went quietly, my baasjes, quietly, like a shadow on the ground, to the place where the fat was. He took a big lump and smeared it all over Brown Sister’s tail while she was asleep. Then heate all that was left—n-yum, n-yum, n-yum—and went to sleep in the waggon-house.“Early in the morning, when the farmer went out to milk the cows, he missed the fat.“‘Lieve land! Where is all my fat?’ he said. ‘It must be that vagabond Jakhals. But wait, I’ll get him!’“He took a thick riem and his sjambok, and went to the waggon-house to catch Jakhals and give him a beating. But when he asked about the fat, Jakhals spoke in a little, little voice.“‘Ach no, Baas! Would I then do such an ugly thing? And look at my tail. There’s no fat on it. The one whose tail is full of fat is the thief.’“He turned round and waved his tail in the farmer’s face, and anyone could easily see that there was no fat on it.“‘But the fat is gone,’ said the farmer, ‘someonemust have stolen it,’ and he went on hunting, hunting in the waggon-house.“At last he came to where Hyena wassleeping, just like a baby, baasjes, so nicely, and snoring a little: not the loud snoring like sawing planks—gorr-korrr, gorr-korr—but nice soft snoring like people do when they sleep very fast—see-uw, see-uw. It is the deepest sleep when a person snores see-uw, see-uw. Hyena’s head was on some chaff, and her tail was sticking out behind her, stiff with fat!“‘Aha! here is the thief,’ said the farmer, and he began to tie the riem round her.“Old Brown Sister sat up and rubbed her eyes. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked. ‘I had a beautiful dream. I dreamt I was eating fat the whole night, and——’“‘And so you were—myfat,’ said the farmer, and he pulled the rope tighter. ‘And now I’m going to teach you not to steal again.’“Poor old Brown Sister jumped about when she found out what he was going to do; she ran round and round the waggon-house trying to get away; she called out, and she called out that she did not know about thefat, that she had never tasted it, and had never even seen it. But it was no good.“‘Look at your tail,’ said the farmer. ‘Will you tell me that your tail went by itself and rubbed itself in the fat?’“So he tied her to the waggon wheel and beat her, and beat her—ach! she was quite sore—and she screamed and screamed, and at last he drove her away from the farm.“Poor old Brown Sister! She didn’t even have the fat from her tail to eat, because, baasjes see, with the running round and the beating, it was all rubbed off. But she never went to live on a farm again; the veld was quite good enough for her.”“Is that the end, Outa?” asked Willem.“Yes, my baasje. It’s a bad end, but Outa can’t help it. It does maar end so.”“And where was Jakhals all the time?” enquired Pietie, severely.“Jakhals, my baasje, was sitting on the waggon saying his prayers—so, my baasjes.” Outa put his crooked hands together and casthis twinkling eyes upwards till only the yellows showed.“‘Bezie, bezie, brame,Hou jouw handjes same.’1“And every time Hyena screamed, Jakhals begged her not to steal again, but to try and behave like a good Christian.”“ButJakhalswas the thief,” said little Jan, indignantly. “He was always the wicked one, and he was never punished. How was that, Outa?”A whimsical smile played over the old man’s face, and though his eyes danced as wickedly as ever, his voice was sober as he answered.“Ach! my little master, how can Outa tell? It is maar so in this old world. It’s like the funny thing Baas Willem saw in the Kaap,2that runs down a place so quickly that it just runs up on the other side, andthenit can’t stop, but it has to run down again, andso it keeps on—up and down, up and down.”“You mean the switchback?” asked Willem.“Ach, yes! baasje, Outa means so. And in the world it is the same—up and down, up and down. And often the good ones are down and the bad ones are up. But the thing—Outa can’t get the name right—goes on, and it goes on, and by-and-by the good ones are up and the bad ones are down.”“But Jakhals seemed always to be up,” remarked Willem.“Yes, my baasje,” said the old man, soberly. “Jakhals seemed always to be up. It goes so sometimes, it goes so,” but his eyes suddenly had a far-away look, and one could not be certain that he was thinking of Jakhals.1“Berry, berry, blackberry,Hold your hands together.”2The Kaap—Cape Town.

V.Who was the Thief?

“Yes, my baasjes,sowas Oom Jakhals: he always made as if he forgot all about what he had done, and he made as if he thought all the others forgot too, quick-quick. He is maar so schelm.”Here Outa took full advantage of the pinch of snuff he held between his right forefinger and thumb, sneezed with evident enjoyment two or three times, and continued:“When Jakhals thought Hyena was quite well, he went to visit her.“‘It’s very dull here in the veld,’ he said, ‘and food is so scarce, so I’m going to hire myself to a farmer. He’ll give me lots to eat and drink, and when I’m nice and fat I’llcome home again. Would you like to go too, Brown Sister?’“Hyena smacked her lips when she heard about the nice things to eat. She thought it a very good plan. So they went to a farm, and Jakhals talked so nicely that the farmer hired them both to work for him.“Ach! it was a beautiful place; lots of chickens and little ducks, and Afrikander sheep with large fat tails that could be melted out for soap and candles, and eggs, and doves and pigeons—all things that Jakhals liked. He just felt in his stomach that he was going to have a jolly life.“During the day Jakhals peeped all about, in this corner, in that corner, and he found out where the farmer kept the nice fat that was melted out of the sheep’s tails. In the middle of the night, when all the people were fast asleep, he got up and went quietly, my baasjes, quietly, like a shadow on the ground, to the place where the fat was. He took a big lump and smeared it all over Brown Sister’s tail while she was asleep. Then heate all that was left—n-yum, n-yum, n-yum—and went to sleep in the waggon-house.“Early in the morning, when the farmer went out to milk the cows, he missed the fat.“‘Lieve land! Where is all my fat?’ he said. ‘It must be that vagabond Jakhals. But wait, I’ll get him!’“He took a thick riem and his sjambok, and went to the waggon-house to catch Jakhals and give him a beating. But when he asked about the fat, Jakhals spoke in a little, little voice.“‘Ach no, Baas! Would I then do such an ugly thing? And look at my tail. There’s no fat on it. The one whose tail is full of fat is the thief.’“He turned round and waved his tail in the farmer’s face, and anyone could easily see that there was no fat on it.“‘But the fat is gone,’ said the farmer, ‘someonemust have stolen it,’ and he went on hunting, hunting in the waggon-house.“At last he came to where Hyena wassleeping, just like a baby, baasjes, so nicely, and snoring a little: not the loud snoring like sawing planks—gorr-korrr, gorr-korr—but nice soft snoring like people do when they sleep very fast—see-uw, see-uw. It is the deepest sleep when a person snores see-uw, see-uw. Hyena’s head was on some chaff, and her tail was sticking out behind her, stiff with fat!“‘Aha! here is the thief,’ said the farmer, and he began to tie the riem round her.“Old Brown Sister sat up and rubbed her eyes. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked. ‘I had a beautiful dream. I dreamt I was eating fat the whole night, and——’“‘And so you were—myfat,’ said the farmer, and he pulled the rope tighter. ‘And now I’m going to teach you not to steal again.’“Poor old Brown Sister jumped about when she found out what he was going to do; she ran round and round the waggon-house trying to get away; she called out, and she called out that she did not know about thefat, that she had never tasted it, and had never even seen it. But it was no good.“‘Look at your tail,’ said the farmer. ‘Will you tell me that your tail went by itself and rubbed itself in the fat?’“So he tied her to the waggon wheel and beat her, and beat her—ach! she was quite sore—and she screamed and screamed, and at last he drove her away from the farm.“Poor old Brown Sister! She didn’t even have the fat from her tail to eat, because, baasjes see, with the running round and the beating, it was all rubbed off. But she never went to live on a farm again; the veld was quite good enough for her.”“Is that the end, Outa?” asked Willem.“Yes, my baasje. It’s a bad end, but Outa can’t help it. It does maar end so.”“And where was Jakhals all the time?” enquired Pietie, severely.“Jakhals, my baasje, was sitting on the waggon saying his prayers—so, my baasjes.” Outa put his crooked hands together and casthis twinkling eyes upwards till only the yellows showed.“‘Bezie, bezie, brame,Hou jouw handjes same.’1“And every time Hyena screamed, Jakhals begged her not to steal again, but to try and behave like a good Christian.”“ButJakhalswas the thief,” said little Jan, indignantly. “He was always the wicked one, and he was never punished. How was that, Outa?”A whimsical smile played over the old man’s face, and though his eyes danced as wickedly as ever, his voice was sober as he answered.“Ach! my little master, how can Outa tell? It is maar so in this old world. It’s like the funny thing Baas Willem saw in the Kaap,2that runs down a place so quickly that it just runs up on the other side, andthenit can’t stop, but it has to run down again, andso it keeps on—up and down, up and down.”“You mean the switchback?” asked Willem.“Ach, yes! baasje, Outa means so. And in the world it is the same—up and down, up and down. And often the good ones are down and the bad ones are up. But the thing—Outa can’t get the name right—goes on, and it goes on, and by-and-by the good ones are up and the bad ones are down.”“But Jakhals seemed always to be up,” remarked Willem.“Yes, my baasje,” said the old man, soberly. “Jakhals seemed always to be up. It goes so sometimes, it goes so,” but his eyes suddenly had a far-away look, and one could not be certain that he was thinking of Jakhals.

“Yes, my baasjes,sowas Oom Jakhals: he always made as if he forgot all about what he had done, and he made as if he thought all the others forgot too, quick-quick. He is maar so schelm.”

Here Outa took full advantage of the pinch of snuff he held between his right forefinger and thumb, sneezed with evident enjoyment two or three times, and continued:

“When Jakhals thought Hyena was quite well, he went to visit her.

“‘It’s very dull here in the veld,’ he said, ‘and food is so scarce, so I’m going to hire myself to a farmer. He’ll give me lots to eat and drink, and when I’m nice and fat I’llcome home again. Would you like to go too, Brown Sister?’

“Hyena smacked her lips when she heard about the nice things to eat. She thought it a very good plan. So they went to a farm, and Jakhals talked so nicely that the farmer hired them both to work for him.

“Ach! it was a beautiful place; lots of chickens and little ducks, and Afrikander sheep with large fat tails that could be melted out for soap and candles, and eggs, and doves and pigeons—all things that Jakhals liked. He just felt in his stomach that he was going to have a jolly life.

“During the day Jakhals peeped all about, in this corner, in that corner, and he found out where the farmer kept the nice fat that was melted out of the sheep’s tails. In the middle of the night, when all the people were fast asleep, he got up and went quietly, my baasjes, quietly, like a shadow on the ground, to the place where the fat was. He took a big lump and smeared it all over Brown Sister’s tail while she was asleep. Then heate all that was left—n-yum, n-yum, n-yum—and went to sleep in the waggon-house.

“Early in the morning, when the farmer went out to milk the cows, he missed the fat.

“‘Lieve land! Where is all my fat?’ he said. ‘It must be that vagabond Jakhals. But wait, I’ll get him!’

“He took a thick riem and his sjambok, and went to the waggon-house to catch Jakhals and give him a beating. But when he asked about the fat, Jakhals spoke in a little, little voice.

“‘Ach no, Baas! Would I then do such an ugly thing? And look at my tail. There’s no fat on it. The one whose tail is full of fat is the thief.’

“He turned round and waved his tail in the farmer’s face, and anyone could easily see that there was no fat on it.

“‘But the fat is gone,’ said the farmer, ‘someonemust have stolen it,’ and he went on hunting, hunting in the waggon-house.

“At last he came to where Hyena wassleeping, just like a baby, baasjes, so nicely, and snoring a little: not the loud snoring like sawing planks—gorr-korrr, gorr-korr—but nice soft snoring like people do when they sleep very fast—see-uw, see-uw. It is the deepest sleep when a person snores see-uw, see-uw. Hyena’s head was on some chaff, and her tail was sticking out behind her, stiff with fat!

“‘Aha! here is the thief,’ said the farmer, and he began to tie the riem round her.

“Old Brown Sister sat up and rubbed her eyes. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked. ‘I had a beautiful dream. I dreamt I was eating fat the whole night, and——’

“‘And so you were—myfat,’ said the farmer, and he pulled the rope tighter. ‘And now I’m going to teach you not to steal again.’

“Poor old Brown Sister jumped about when she found out what he was going to do; she ran round and round the waggon-house trying to get away; she called out, and she called out that she did not know about thefat, that she had never tasted it, and had never even seen it. But it was no good.

“‘Look at your tail,’ said the farmer. ‘Will you tell me that your tail went by itself and rubbed itself in the fat?’

“So he tied her to the waggon wheel and beat her, and beat her—ach! she was quite sore—and she screamed and screamed, and at last he drove her away from the farm.

“Poor old Brown Sister! She didn’t even have the fat from her tail to eat, because, baasjes see, with the running round and the beating, it was all rubbed off. But she never went to live on a farm again; the veld was quite good enough for her.”

“Is that the end, Outa?” asked Willem.

“Yes, my baasje. It’s a bad end, but Outa can’t help it. It does maar end so.”

“And where was Jakhals all the time?” enquired Pietie, severely.

“Jakhals, my baasje, was sitting on the waggon saying his prayers—so, my baasjes.” Outa put his crooked hands together and casthis twinkling eyes upwards till only the yellows showed.

“‘Bezie, bezie, brame,Hou jouw handjes same.’1

“‘Bezie, bezie, brame,

Hou jouw handjes same.’1

“And every time Hyena screamed, Jakhals begged her not to steal again, but to try and behave like a good Christian.”

“ButJakhalswas the thief,” said little Jan, indignantly. “He was always the wicked one, and he was never punished. How was that, Outa?”

A whimsical smile played over the old man’s face, and though his eyes danced as wickedly as ever, his voice was sober as he answered.

“Ach! my little master, how can Outa tell? It is maar so in this old world. It’s like the funny thing Baas Willem saw in the Kaap,2that runs down a place so quickly that it just runs up on the other side, andthenit can’t stop, but it has to run down again, andso it keeps on—up and down, up and down.”

“You mean the switchback?” asked Willem.

“Ach, yes! baasje, Outa means so. And in the world it is the same—up and down, up and down. And often the good ones are down and the bad ones are up. But the thing—Outa can’t get the name right—goes on, and it goes on, and by-and-by the good ones are up and the bad ones are down.”

“But Jakhals seemed always to be up,” remarked Willem.

“Yes, my baasje,” said the old man, soberly. “Jakhals seemed always to be up. It goes so sometimes, it goes so,” but his eyes suddenly had a far-away look, and one could not be certain that he was thinking of Jakhals.

1“Berry, berry, blackberry,Hold your hands together.”2The Kaap—Cape Town.

1

“Berry, berry, blackberry,Hold your hands together.”

“Berry, berry, blackberry,Hold your hands together.”

“Berry, berry, blackberry,Hold your hands together.”

“Berry, berry, blackberry,

Hold your hands together.”

2The Kaap—Cape Town.

VI.The Sun.A Bushman Legend.Outa, having disposed of his nightly tot, held his crooked hands towards the cheerful blaze and turned his engaging smile alternately on it and his little masters.“Ach! what it is to keep a bit of the Sun even when the Sun is gone! Long ago Outa’s people, the Bushmen, did not know about fire. No, my baasjes, when the Big Fire, that makes the world warm and bright, walked across the sky, they were happy. They hunted, and danced, and feasted. They shot the fine big bucks with their little poisoned arrows, and they tore pieces off and ate the flesh with the red blood dripping from it: they had no fire to make it dry up. Andthe roots and eintjes that they dug out with their sharp stones—those, too, they ate just as they were. They did not cook, for they did not know how to make fire. But when the white man came, then they learnt. Baasjes see, Outa’s head is big—bigger than the Baas’s head—but that does not help. It’s the inside that matters, and the white man’s head inside here”—Outa tapped his wrinkled forehead—“Alla! but it can hold a lot!“In the olden days, when Outa’s people were cold they crept into caves and covered themselves with skins, for they had no fire to sit by. Yes, they were sorry when the Old Man in the sky put down his arms and lay down to sleep.”“What Old Man?” asked Pietie. “Do you mean the Sun?”“Aja! Don’t baasjes then know that the Sun was once a man? It was long, long ago, before Outa’s people lived in the world: perhaps in the days of the Early Race that were before even the Flat Bushmen, who were the first people we really knowanything about. In those days at a certain place lived a man, from whose armpits brightness streamed. When he lifted one arm, the place on that side of him was light; when he lifted the other arm, the place onthatside of him was light; but when he lifted both arms, the light shone all around about him. But it only shone around the place where he lived; it did not reach to other places.“Sometimes the people asked him to stand on a stone, so that his light could go farther; and sometimes he climbed on a kopje and lifted up his arms: ach! then the light streamed out far, far, and lighted up the veld for miles and miles. For the higher he went, the farther the light shone.“Then the people said: ‘We see now, the higher he goes the farther his light shines. If only we could put him very high, his light would go out over the whole world.’“So they tried to make a plan, and at last a wise old woman called the young people together and said: ‘You must go to this man from whose armpits the light streams.When he is asleep, you must go; and the strongest of you must take him under the armpits, and lift him up, and swing him to and fro—so—so—and throw him as high as you can into the sky, so that he may be above the kopjes, lifting his arms to let the light stream down to warm the earth and make green things to grow in summer.’“So the young men went to the place where the man lay sleeping. Quietly they went, my baasjes, creeping along in the red sand so as not to wake him. He was in a deep sleep, and before he could wake the strong young men took him under the armpits and swung him to and fro, as the wise old woman had told them. Then, as they swung him, they threw him into the air, high, high, and there he stuck.“The next morning, when he awoke and stretched himself, lifting up his arms, the light streamed out from under them and brightened all the world, warming the earth, and making the green things grow. And so it went on day after day. When he put uphis arms, it was bright, it was day. When he put down one arm, it was cloudy, the weather was not clear. And when he put down both arms and turned over to go to sleep, there was no light at all: it was dark; it was night. But when he awoke and lifted his arms, the day came again and the world was warm and bright.“Sometimes he is far away from the earth. Then it is cold: it is winter. But when he comes near, the earth gets warm again; the green things grow and the fruit ripens: it is summer. And so it goes on to this day, my baasjes: the day and night, summer and winter, and all because the Old Man with the bright armpits was thrown into the sky.”“But the Sun is not a man, Outa,” said downright Willem, “and he hasn’t any arms.”“No, my baasje, not now. He is not a man any more. But baasjes must remember how long he has been up in the sky—spans, and spans, andspansof years, always rolling round, and rolling round, from the time hewakes in the morning till he lies down to sleep at the other side of the world. And with the rolling, baasjes, he has got all rounder and rounder, and the light that at first came only from under his arms has been rolled right round him, till now he is a big ball of light, rolling from one side of the sky to the other.”Cousin Minnie, who had been listening in a desultory way to the fireside chatter, as she wrote at the side-table, started and leant toward the little group; but a single glance was enough to show that so interested were the children in the personal aspect of the tale that there was no fear of confusion arising in their minds from Outa’s decided subversion of an elementary fact which she had been at some pains to get them to understand and accept.“And his arms, Outa,” inquired little Jan, in his earnest way, “do theynevercome out now?”Outa beamed upon him proudly. “Ach! that ismylittle master! Always to ask abig thing! Yes, baasje,sometimesthey come out. When it is a dark day, then he has put his arms out. He is holding them down, and spreading his hands before the light, so that it can’t shine on the world. And sometimes, just before he gets up in the morning, and before he goes to sleep at night, haven’t baasjes seen long bright stripes coming from the round ball of light?”“Yes, yes,” assented his little listeners, eagerly.“Those are the long fingers of the Sun. His arms are rolled up inside the fiery ball, but he sticks his long fingers out and they make bright roads into the sky, spreading out all round him. The Old Man is peeping at the earth through his fingers. Baasjes must count them next time he sticks them out, and see if they are all there—eight long ones, those are the fingers; and two short ones for the thumbs.”Outa’s knowledge of arithmetic was limited to the number of his crooked digits, and the smile with which he announced the extent ofhis mathematical attainments was a ludicrous cross between proud triumph and modest reluctance.“When he lies down, he pulls them in. Then all the world grows dark and the people go to sleep.”“But, Outa, it isn’t always dark at night,” Pietie reminded him. “There are the Stars and the Moon, you know.”“Ach, yes! The little Stars and the Lady Moon. Outa will tell the baasjes about them another night, but now he must go quick—quick and let Lys rub his back with buchu. When friend Old Age comes the back bends and the bones get stiff, and the rheumatism—foei! but it can pinch! Therefore, my baasjes, Outa cooks bossies from the veld to rub on—buchu and kookamakranka and karroo bossies. They are all good, but buchu is the best. Yes, buchu for the outside, and the Baas’s fire-water for the inside!”He looked longingly at the cupboard, but wood and glass are unresponsive until actedon by human agency; so, possessing no “Open, Sesame” for that unyielding lock, Outa contented himself by smacking his lips as he toddled away.

VI.The Sun.A Bushman Legend.

Outa, having disposed of his nightly tot, held his crooked hands towards the cheerful blaze and turned his engaging smile alternately on it and his little masters.“Ach! what it is to keep a bit of the Sun even when the Sun is gone! Long ago Outa’s people, the Bushmen, did not know about fire. No, my baasjes, when the Big Fire, that makes the world warm and bright, walked across the sky, they were happy. They hunted, and danced, and feasted. They shot the fine big bucks with their little poisoned arrows, and they tore pieces off and ate the flesh with the red blood dripping from it: they had no fire to make it dry up. Andthe roots and eintjes that they dug out with their sharp stones—those, too, they ate just as they were. They did not cook, for they did not know how to make fire. But when the white man came, then they learnt. Baasjes see, Outa’s head is big—bigger than the Baas’s head—but that does not help. It’s the inside that matters, and the white man’s head inside here”—Outa tapped his wrinkled forehead—“Alla! but it can hold a lot!“In the olden days, when Outa’s people were cold they crept into caves and covered themselves with skins, for they had no fire to sit by. Yes, they were sorry when the Old Man in the sky put down his arms and lay down to sleep.”“What Old Man?” asked Pietie. “Do you mean the Sun?”“Aja! Don’t baasjes then know that the Sun was once a man? It was long, long ago, before Outa’s people lived in the world: perhaps in the days of the Early Race that were before even the Flat Bushmen, who were the first people we really knowanything about. In those days at a certain place lived a man, from whose armpits brightness streamed. When he lifted one arm, the place on that side of him was light; when he lifted the other arm, the place onthatside of him was light; but when he lifted both arms, the light shone all around about him. But it only shone around the place where he lived; it did not reach to other places.“Sometimes the people asked him to stand on a stone, so that his light could go farther; and sometimes he climbed on a kopje and lifted up his arms: ach! then the light streamed out far, far, and lighted up the veld for miles and miles. For the higher he went, the farther the light shone.“Then the people said: ‘We see now, the higher he goes the farther his light shines. If only we could put him very high, his light would go out over the whole world.’“So they tried to make a plan, and at last a wise old woman called the young people together and said: ‘You must go to this man from whose armpits the light streams.When he is asleep, you must go; and the strongest of you must take him under the armpits, and lift him up, and swing him to and fro—so—so—and throw him as high as you can into the sky, so that he may be above the kopjes, lifting his arms to let the light stream down to warm the earth and make green things to grow in summer.’“So the young men went to the place where the man lay sleeping. Quietly they went, my baasjes, creeping along in the red sand so as not to wake him. He was in a deep sleep, and before he could wake the strong young men took him under the armpits and swung him to and fro, as the wise old woman had told them. Then, as they swung him, they threw him into the air, high, high, and there he stuck.“The next morning, when he awoke and stretched himself, lifting up his arms, the light streamed out from under them and brightened all the world, warming the earth, and making the green things grow. And so it went on day after day. When he put uphis arms, it was bright, it was day. When he put down one arm, it was cloudy, the weather was not clear. And when he put down both arms and turned over to go to sleep, there was no light at all: it was dark; it was night. But when he awoke and lifted his arms, the day came again and the world was warm and bright.“Sometimes he is far away from the earth. Then it is cold: it is winter. But when he comes near, the earth gets warm again; the green things grow and the fruit ripens: it is summer. And so it goes on to this day, my baasjes: the day and night, summer and winter, and all because the Old Man with the bright armpits was thrown into the sky.”“But the Sun is not a man, Outa,” said downright Willem, “and he hasn’t any arms.”“No, my baasje, not now. He is not a man any more. But baasjes must remember how long he has been up in the sky—spans, and spans, andspansof years, always rolling round, and rolling round, from the time hewakes in the morning till he lies down to sleep at the other side of the world. And with the rolling, baasjes, he has got all rounder and rounder, and the light that at first came only from under his arms has been rolled right round him, till now he is a big ball of light, rolling from one side of the sky to the other.”Cousin Minnie, who had been listening in a desultory way to the fireside chatter, as she wrote at the side-table, started and leant toward the little group; but a single glance was enough to show that so interested were the children in the personal aspect of the tale that there was no fear of confusion arising in their minds from Outa’s decided subversion of an elementary fact which she had been at some pains to get them to understand and accept.“And his arms, Outa,” inquired little Jan, in his earnest way, “do theynevercome out now?”Outa beamed upon him proudly. “Ach! that ismylittle master! Always to ask abig thing! Yes, baasje,sometimesthey come out. When it is a dark day, then he has put his arms out. He is holding them down, and spreading his hands before the light, so that it can’t shine on the world. And sometimes, just before he gets up in the morning, and before he goes to sleep at night, haven’t baasjes seen long bright stripes coming from the round ball of light?”“Yes, yes,” assented his little listeners, eagerly.“Those are the long fingers of the Sun. His arms are rolled up inside the fiery ball, but he sticks his long fingers out and they make bright roads into the sky, spreading out all round him. The Old Man is peeping at the earth through his fingers. Baasjes must count them next time he sticks them out, and see if they are all there—eight long ones, those are the fingers; and two short ones for the thumbs.”Outa’s knowledge of arithmetic was limited to the number of his crooked digits, and the smile with which he announced the extent ofhis mathematical attainments was a ludicrous cross between proud triumph and modest reluctance.“When he lies down, he pulls them in. Then all the world grows dark and the people go to sleep.”“But, Outa, it isn’t always dark at night,” Pietie reminded him. “There are the Stars and the Moon, you know.”“Ach, yes! The little Stars and the Lady Moon. Outa will tell the baasjes about them another night, but now he must go quick—quick and let Lys rub his back with buchu. When friend Old Age comes the back bends and the bones get stiff, and the rheumatism—foei! but it can pinch! Therefore, my baasjes, Outa cooks bossies from the veld to rub on—buchu and kookamakranka and karroo bossies. They are all good, but buchu is the best. Yes, buchu for the outside, and the Baas’s fire-water for the inside!”He looked longingly at the cupboard, but wood and glass are unresponsive until actedon by human agency; so, possessing no “Open, Sesame” for that unyielding lock, Outa contented himself by smacking his lips as he toddled away.

Outa, having disposed of his nightly tot, held his crooked hands towards the cheerful blaze and turned his engaging smile alternately on it and his little masters.

“Ach! what it is to keep a bit of the Sun even when the Sun is gone! Long ago Outa’s people, the Bushmen, did not know about fire. No, my baasjes, when the Big Fire, that makes the world warm and bright, walked across the sky, they were happy. They hunted, and danced, and feasted. They shot the fine big bucks with their little poisoned arrows, and they tore pieces off and ate the flesh with the red blood dripping from it: they had no fire to make it dry up. Andthe roots and eintjes that they dug out with their sharp stones—those, too, they ate just as they were. They did not cook, for they did not know how to make fire. But when the white man came, then they learnt. Baasjes see, Outa’s head is big—bigger than the Baas’s head—but that does not help. It’s the inside that matters, and the white man’s head inside here”—Outa tapped his wrinkled forehead—“Alla! but it can hold a lot!

“In the olden days, when Outa’s people were cold they crept into caves and covered themselves with skins, for they had no fire to sit by. Yes, they were sorry when the Old Man in the sky put down his arms and lay down to sleep.”

“What Old Man?” asked Pietie. “Do you mean the Sun?”

“Aja! Don’t baasjes then know that the Sun was once a man? It was long, long ago, before Outa’s people lived in the world: perhaps in the days of the Early Race that were before even the Flat Bushmen, who were the first people we really knowanything about. In those days at a certain place lived a man, from whose armpits brightness streamed. When he lifted one arm, the place on that side of him was light; when he lifted the other arm, the place onthatside of him was light; but when he lifted both arms, the light shone all around about him. But it only shone around the place where he lived; it did not reach to other places.

“Sometimes the people asked him to stand on a stone, so that his light could go farther; and sometimes he climbed on a kopje and lifted up his arms: ach! then the light streamed out far, far, and lighted up the veld for miles and miles. For the higher he went, the farther the light shone.

“Then the people said: ‘We see now, the higher he goes the farther his light shines. If only we could put him very high, his light would go out over the whole world.’

“So they tried to make a plan, and at last a wise old woman called the young people together and said: ‘You must go to this man from whose armpits the light streams.When he is asleep, you must go; and the strongest of you must take him under the armpits, and lift him up, and swing him to and fro—so—so—and throw him as high as you can into the sky, so that he may be above the kopjes, lifting his arms to let the light stream down to warm the earth and make green things to grow in summer.’

“So the young men went to the place where the man lay sleeping. Quietly they went, my baasjes, creeping along in the red sand so as not to wake him. He was in a deep sleep, and before he could wake the strong young men took him under the armpits and swung him to and fro, as the wise old woman had told them. Then, as they swung him, they threw him into the air, high, high, and there he stuck.

“The next morning, when he awoke and stretched himself, lifting up his arms, the light streamed out from under them and brightened all the world, warming the earth, and making the green things grow. And so it went on day after day. When he put uphis arms, it was bright, it was day. When he put down one arm, it was cloudy, the weather was not clear. And when he put down both arms and turned over to go to sleep, there was no light at all: it was dark; it was night. But when he awoke and lifted his arms, the day came again and the world was warm and bright.

“Sometimes he is far away from the earth. Then it is cold: it is winter. But when he comes near, the earth gets warm again; the green things grow and the fruit ripens: it is summer. And so it goes on to this day, my baasjes: the day and night, summer and winter, and all because the Old Man with the bright armpits was thrown into the sky.”

“But the Sun is not a man, Outa,” said downright Willem, “and he hasn’t any arms.”

“No, my baasje, not now. He is not a man any more. But baasjes must remember how long he has been up in the sky—spans, and spans, andspansof years, always rolling round, and rolling round, from the time hewakes in the morning till he lies down to sleep at the other side of the world. And with the rolling, baasjes, he has got all rounder and rounder, and the light that at first came only from under his arms has been rolled right round him, till now he is a big ball of light, rolling from one side of the sky to the other.”

Cousin Minnie, who had been listening in a desultory way to the fireside chatter, as she wrote at the side-table, started and leant toward the little group; but a single glance was enough to show that so interested were the children in the personal aspect of the tale that there was no fear of confusion arising in their minds from Outa’s decided subversion of an elementary fact which she had been at some pains to get them to understand and accept.

“And his arms, Outa,” inquired little Jan, in his earnest way, “do theynevercome out now?”

Outa beamed upon him proudly. “Ach! that ismylittle master! Always to ask abig thing! Yes, baasje,sometimesthey come out. When it is a dark day, then he has put his arms out. He is holding them down, and spreading his hands before the light, so that it can’t shine on the world. And sometimes, just before he gets up in the morning, and before he goes to sleep at night, haven’t baasjes seen long bright stripes coming from the round ball of light?”

“Yes, yes,” assented his little listeners, eagerly.

“Those are the long fingers of the Sun. His arms are rolled up inside the fiery ball, but he sticks his long fingers out and they make bright roads into the sky, spreading out all round him. The Old Man is peeping at the earth through his fingers. Baasjes must count them next time he sticks them out, and see if they are all there—eight long ones, those are the fingers; and two short ones for the thumbs.”

Outa’s knowledge of arithmetic was limited to the number of his crooked digits, and the smile with which he announced the extent ofhis mathematical attainments was a ludicrous cross between proud triumph and modest reluctance.

“When he lies down, he pulls them in. Then all the world grows dark and the people go to sleep.”

“But, Outa, it isn’t always dark at night,” Pietie reminded him. “There are the Stars and the Moon, you know.”

“Ach, yes! The little Stars and the Lady Moon. Outa will tell the baasjes about them another night, but now he must go quick—quick and let Lys rub his back with buchu. When friend Old Age comes the back bends and the bones get stiff, and the rheumatism—foei! but it can pinch! Therefore, my baasjes, Outa cooks bossies from the veld to rub on—buchu and kookamakranka and karroo bossies. They are all good, but buchu is the best. Yes, buchu for the outside, and the Baas’s fire-water for the inside!”

He looked longingly at the cupboard, but wood and glass are unresponsive until actedon by human agency; so, possessing no “Open, Sesame” for that unyielding lock, Outa contented himself by smacking his lips as he toddled away.

VII.The Stars and the Stars’ Road.Darkly-blue and illimitable, the arc of the sky hung over the great Karroo like a canopy of softest velvet, making a deep, mysterious background for the myriad stars, which twinkled brightly at a frosty world.The three little boys, gathered at the window, pointed out to each other the constellations with which Cousin Minnie had made them familiar, and were deep in a discussion as to the nature and number of the stars composing the Milky Way when Outa shuffled in.“Outa, do you think there are a billion stars up there in the Milky Way?” asked Willem.“A billion, you know,” explained Pietie,“is a thousand million, and it would take months to count even one million.”“The Stars’ Road”“The Stars’ Road”Face page 64]“Aja, baasje,” said the old man readily, seizing, with native adroitness, the unknown word and making it his own, “then there willsurelybe a billion stars up there. Perhaps,” he added, judicially considering the matter, “twobillion, but no one knows, because no one can ever count them. They are too many. And to think that that bright road in the sky is made of wood ashes, after all.”He settled himself on his stool, and his little audience came to attention.“Yes, my baasjes,” he went on, “long, long ago, the sky was dark at night when the Old Man with the bright armpits lay down to sleep, but people learned in time to make fires to light up the darkness; and one night a girl, who sat warming herself by a wood fire, played with the ashes. She took the ashes in her hands and threw them up to see how pretty they were when they floated in the air. And as they floated away she put green bushes on the fire and stirred it with astick. Bright sparks flew out and went high, high, mixing with the silver ashes, and they all hung in the air and made a bright road across the sky. And there it is to this day. Baasjes call it the Milky Way, but Outa calls it the Stars’ Road.“Ai! but the girl was pleased! She clapped her hands and danced, shaking herself like Outa’s people do when they are happy, and singing:—‘The little stars! The tiny stars!They make a road for other stars.Ash of wood-fire! Dust of the Sun!They call the Dawn when Night is done!’“Then she took some of the roots she had been eating and threw them into the sky, and there they hung and turned into large stars. The old roots turned into stars that gave a red light, and the young roots turned into stars that gave a golden light. There they all hung, winking and twinkling and singing. Yes, singing, my baasjes, and this is what they sang:—‘We are children of the Sun!It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!Him we call when Night is done!It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!Bright we sail across the skyBy the Stars’ Road, high, so high;And we, twinkling, smile at you,As we sail across the blue!It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!’“Baasjes know, when the stars twinkle up there in the sky they are like little children nodding their heads and saying, ‘It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!’” At each repetition Outa nodded and winked, and the children, with antics of approval, followed suit.“Baasjes have sometimes seen a star fall?” Three little heads nodded in concert.“When a star falls,” said the old man impressively, “it tells us someone has died. For the star knows when a person’s heart fails and the person dies, and it falls from the sky to tell those at a distance that someone they know has died.1“One star grew and grew till he was much larger than the others. He was the Great Star, and, singing, he named the other stars. He called each one by name, till they all had their names, and in this way they knew that he was the Great Star. No other could have done so. Then when he had finished, they all sang together and praised the Great Star, who had named them.2“Now, when the day is done, they walk across the sky on each side of the Stars’ Road. It shows them the way. And when Night is over, they turn back and sail again by the Stars’ Road to call the Daybreak, that goes before the Sun. The Star that leads the way is a big bright star. He is called the Dawn’s-Heart Star, and in the dark, dark hour, before the Stars have called the Dawn, he shines—ach! baasjes, he is beautiful to behold! The wife and the child of the Dawn’s-Heart Star are pretty, too, but not so big and bright as he. They sail on infront, and then they wait—wait for the other Stars to turn back and sail along the Stars’ Road, calling, calling the Dawn, and for the Sun to come up from under the world, where he has been lying asleep.“They call and sing, twinkling as they sing:—‘We call across the sky,Dawn! Come, Dawn!You, that are like a young maid newly risen,Rubbing the sleep from your eyes!You, that come stretching bright hands to the sky,Pointing the way for the Sun!Before whose smile the Stars faint and grow pale,And the Stars’ Road melts away.Dawn! Come Dawn!We call across the sky,And the Dawn’s-Heart Star is waiting.It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!’“So they sing, baasjes, because they know they are soon going out.“Then slowly the Dawn comes, rubbing her eyes, smiling, stretching out bright fingers, chasing the darkness away. The Stars grow faint and the Stars’ Road fades, while theDawn makes a bright pathway for the Sun. At last he comes with both arms lifted high, and the brightness, streaming from under them, makes day for the world, and wakes people to their work and play.“But the little Stars wait till he sleeps again before they begin their singing. Summer is the time when they sing best, but even now, if baasjes look out of the window they will see the Stars, twinkling and singing.”The children ran to the window and gazed out into the starlit heavens. The last sight Outa had, as he drained the soopje glass the Baas was just in time to hand him, was of three little heads bobbing up and down in time to the immemorial music of the Stars, while little Jan’s excited treble rang out: “Yes, it’s quite true, Outa. Theydosay, ‘It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!’”1It is both curious and interesting to find the identical belief obtaining amongst races so widely different as the Scandinavians of Northern Europe and the Bushmen of South Africa.—See Hans Andersen’sLittle Match Girl: “Her Grandmother had told her that when a star fell down a soul mounted up to God.”2“When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy.”—Job xxxviii. 7.

VII.The Stars and the Stars’ Road.

Darkly-blue and illimitable, the arc of the sky hung over the great Karroo like a canopy of softest velvet, making a deep, mysterious background for the myriad stars, which twinkled brightly at a frosty world.The three little boys, gathered at the window, pointed out to each other the constellations with which Cousin Minnie had made them familiar, and were deep in a discussion as to the nature and number of the stars composing the Milky Way when Outa shuffled in.“Outa, do you think there are a billion stars up there in the Milky Way?” asked Willem.“A billion, you know,” explained Pietie,“is a thousand million, and it would take months to count even one million.”“The Stars’ Road”“The Stars’ Road”Face page 64]“Aja, baasje,” said the old man readily, seizing, with native adroitness, the unknown word and making it his own, “then there willsurelybe a billion stars up there. Perhaps,” he added, judicially considering the matter, “twobillion, but no one knows, because no one can ever count them. They are too many. And to think that that bright road in the sky is made of wood ashes, after all.”He settled himself on his stool, and his little audience came to attention.“Yes, my baasjes,” he went on, “long, long ago, the sky was dark at night when the Old Man with the bright armpits lay down to sleep, but people learned in time to make fires to light up the darkness; and one night a girl, who sat warming herself by a wood fire, played with the ashes. She took the ashes in her hands and threw them up to see how pretty they were when they floated in the air. And as they floated away she put green bushes on the fire and stirred it with astick. Bright sparks flew out and went high, high, mixing with the silver ashes, and they all hung in the air and made a bright road across the sky. And there it is to this day. Baasjes call it the Milky Way, but Outa calls it the Stars’ Road.“Ai! but the girl was pleased! She clapped her hands and danced, shaking herself like Outa’s people do when they are happy, and singing:—‘The little stars! The tiny stars!They make a road for other stars.Ash of wood-fire! Dust of the Sun!They call the Dawn when Night is done!’“Then she took some of the roots she had been eating and threw them into the sky, and there they hung and turned into large stars. The old roots turned into stars that gave a red light, and the young roots turned into stars that gave a golden light. There they all hung, winking and twinkling and singing. Yes, singing, my baasjes, and this is what they sang:—‘We are children of the Sun!It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!Him we call when Night is done!It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!Bright we sail across the skyBy the Stars’ Road, high, so high;And we, twinkling, smile at you,As we sail across the blue!It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!’“Baasjes know, when the stars twinkle up there in the sky they are like little children nodding their heads and saying, ‘It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!’” At each repetition Outa nodded and winked, and the children, with antics of approval, followed suit.“Baasjes have sometimes seen a star fall?” Three little heads nodded in concert.“When a star falls,” said the old man impressively, “it tells us someone has died. For the star knows when a person’s heart fails and the person dies, and it falls from the sky to tell those at a distance that someone they know has died.1“One star grew and grew till he was much larger than the others. He was the Great Star, and, singing, he named the other stars. He called each one by name, till they all had their names, and in this way they knew that he was the Great Star. No other could have done so. Then when he had finished, they all sang together and praised the Great Star, who had named them.2“Now, when the day is done, they walk across the sky on each side of the Stars’ Road. It shows them the way. And when Night is over, they turn back and sail again by the Stars’ Road to call the Daybreak, that goes before the Sun. The Star that leads the way is a big bright star. He is called the Dawn’s-Heart Star, and in the dark, dark hour, before the Stars have called the Dawn, he shines—ach! baasjes, he is beautiful to behold! The wife and the child of the Dawn’s-Heart Star are pretty, too, but not so big and bright as he. They sail on infront, and then they wait—wait for the other Stars to turn back and sail along the Stars’ Road, calling, calling the Dawn, and for the Sun to come up from under the world, where he has been lying asleep.“They call and sing, twinkling as they sing:—‘We call across the sky,Dawn! Come, Dawn!You, that are like a young maid newly risen,Rubbing the sleep from your eyes!You, that come stretching bright hands to the sky,Pointing the way for the Sun!Before whose smile the Stars faint and grow pale,And the Stars’ Road melts away.Dawn! Come Dawn!We call across the sky,And the Dawn’s-Heart Star is waiting.It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!’“So they sing, baasjes, because they know they are soon going out.“Then slowly the Dawn comes, rubbing her eyes, smiling, stretching out bright fingers, chasing the darkness away. The Stars grow faint and the Stars’ Road fades, while theDawn makes a bright pathway for the Sun. At last he comes with both arms lifted high, and the brightness, streaming from under them, makes day for the world, and wakes people to their work and play.“But the little Stars wait till he sleeps again before they begin their singing. Summer is the time when they sing best, but even now, if baasjes look out of the window they will see the Stars, twinkling and singing.”The children ran to the window and gazed out into the starlit heavens. The last sight Outa had, as he drained the soopje glass the Baas was just in time to hand him, was of three little heads bobbing up and down in time to the immemorial music of the Stars, while little Jan’s excited treble rang out: “Yes, it’s quite true, Outa. Theydosay, ‘It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!’”

Darkly-blue and illimitable, the arc of the sky hung over the great Karroo like a canopy of softest velvet, making a deep, mysterious background for the myriad stars, which twinkled brightly at a frosty world.

The three little boys, gathered at the window, pointed out to each other the constellations with which Cousin Minnie had made them familiar, and were deep in a discussion as to the nature and number of the stars composing the Milky Way when Outa shuffled in.

“Outa, do you think there are a billion stars up there in the Milky Way?” asked Willem.

“A billion, you know,” explained Pietie,“is a thousand million, and it would take months to count even one million.”

“The Stars’ Road”“The Stars’ Road”Face page 64]

“The Stars’ Road”

Face page 64]

“Aja, baasje,” said the old man readily, seizing, with native adroitness, the unknown word and making it his own, “then there willsurelybe a billion stars up there. Perhaps,” he added, judicially considering the matter, “twobillion, but no one knows, because no one can ever count them. They are too many. And to think that that bright road in the sky is made of wood ashes, after all.”

He settled himself on his stool, and his little audience came to attention.

“Yes, my baasjes,” he went on, “long, long ago, the sky was dark at night when the Old Man with the bright armpits lay down to sleep, but people learned in time to make fires to light up the darkness; and one night a girl, who sat warming herself by a wood fire, played with the ashes. She took the ashes in her hands and threw them up to see how pretty they were when they floated in the air. And as they floated away she put green bushes on the fire and stirred it with astick. Bright sparks flew out and went high, high, mixing with the silver ashes, and they all hung in the air and made a bright road across the sky. And there it is to this day. Baasjes call it the Milky Way, but Outa calls it the Stars’ Road.

“Ai! but the girl was pleased! She clapped her hands and danced, shaking herself like Outa’s people do when they are happy, and singing:—

‘The little stars! The tiny stars!They make a road for other stars.Ash of wood-fire! Dust of the Sun!They call the Dawn when Night is done!’

‘The little stars! The tiny stars!

They make a road for other stars.

Ash of wood-fire! Dust of the Sun!

They call the Dawn when Night is done!’

“Then she took some of the roots she had been eating and threw them into the sky, and there they hung and turned into large stars. The old roots turned into stars that gave a red light, and the young roots turned into stars that gave a golden light. There they all hung, winking and twinkling and singing. Yes, singing, my baasjes, and this is what they sang:—

‘We are children of the Sun!It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!Him we call when Night is done!It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!Bright we sail across the skyBy the Stars’ Road, high, so high;And we, twinkling, smile at you,As we sail across the blue!It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!’

‘We are children of the Sun!

It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!

Him we call when Night is done!

It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!

Bright we sail across the sky

By the Stars’ Road, high, so high;

And we, twinkling, smile at you,

As we sail across the blue!

It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!’

“Baasjes know, when the stars twinkle up there in the sky they are like little children nodding their heads and saying, ‘It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!’” At each repetition Outa nodded and winked, and the children, with antics of approval, followed suit.

“Baasjes have sometimes seen a star fall?” Three little heads nodded in concert.

“When a star falls,” said the old man impressively, “it tells us someone has died. For the star knows when a person’s heart fails and the person dies, and it falls from the sky to tell those at a distance that someone they know has died.1

“One star grew and grew till he was much larger than the others. He was the Great Star, and, singing, he named the other stars. He called each one by name, till they all had their names, and in this way they knew that he was the Great Star. No other could have done so. Then when he had finished, they all sang together and praised the Great Star, who had named them.2

“Now, when the day is done, they walk across the sky on each side of the Stars’ Road. It shows them the way. And when Night is over, they turn back and sail again by the Stars’ Road to call the Daybreak, that goes before the Sun. The Star that leads the way is a big bright star. He is called the Dawn’s-Heart Star, and in the dark, dark hour, before the Stars have called the Dawn, he shines—ach! baasjes, he is beautiful to behold! The wife and the child of the Dawn’s-Heart Star are pretty, too, but not so big and bright as he. They sail on infront, and then they wait—wait for the other Stars to turn back and sail along the Stars’ Road, calling, calling the Dawn, and for the Sun to come up from under the world, where he has been lying asleep.

“They call and sing, twinkling as they sing:—

‘We call across the sky,Dawn! Come, Dawn!You, that are like a young maid newly risen,Rubbing the sleep from your eyes!You, that come stretching bright hands to the sky,Pointing the way for the Sun!Before whose smile the Stars faint and grow pale,And the Stars’ Road melts away.Dawn! Come Dawn!We call across the sky,And the Dawn’s-Heart Star is waiting.It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!’

‘We call across the sky,

Dawn! Come, Dawn!

You, that are like a young maid newly risen,

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes!

You, that come stretching bright hands to the sky,

Pointing the way for the Sun!

Before whose smile the Stars faint and grow pale,

And the Stars’ Road melts away.

Dawn! Come Dawn!

We call across the sky,

And the Dawn’s-Heart Star is waiting.

It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!’

“So they sing, baasjes, because they know they are soon going out.

“Then slowly the Dawn comes, rubbing her eyes, smiling, stretching out bright fingers, chasing the darkness away. The Stars grow faint and the Stars’ Road fades, while theDawn makes a bright pathway for the Sun. At last he comes with both arms lifted high, and the brightness, streaming from under them, makes day for the world, and wakes people to their work and play.

“But the little Stars wait till he sleeps again before they begin their singing. Summer is the time when they sing best, but even now, if baasjes look out of the window they will see the Stars, twinkling and singing.”

The children ran to the window and gazed out into the starlit heavens. The last sight Outa had, as he drained the soopje glass the Baas was just in time to hand him, was of three little heads bobbing up and down in time to the immemorial music of the Stars, while little Jan’s excited treble rang out: “Yes, it’s quite true, Outa. Theydosay, ‘It’s so! It’s so! It’s so!’”

1It is both curious and interesting to find the identical belief obtaining amongst races so widely different as the Scandinavians of Northern Europe and the Bushmen of South Africa.—See Hans Andersen’sLittle Match Girl: “Her Grandmother had told her that when a star fell down a soul mounted up to God.”2“When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy.”—Job xxxviii. 7.

1It is both curious and interesting to find the identical belief obtaining amongst races so widely different as the Scandinavians of Northern Europe and the Bushmen of South Africa.—See Hans Andersen’sLittle Match Girl: “Her Grandmother had told her that when a star fell down a soul mounted up to God.”

2“When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy.”—Job xxxviii. 7.

VIII.Why the Hare’s Nose is Slit.The curtains had not yet been drawn nor the shutters closed, and little Jan looked with wide serious eyes at the full moon sailing serenely in the cold sky. Then he sighed as though thoughts too big for expression stirred within him, and turned absently towards the purring fire.“And why does the big man make such a sighing?” asked Outa Karel. “It is like the wind in the mealie land at sun-under.”Little Jan’s eyes slowly withdrew their gaze from some inward vision and became conscious of the old native. “Outa,” he said, “why is the moon so far away, and so beautiful, and so golden?”“Ach! to hear him now! How can Outatell? It is maar so. Just like grass is green and fire is hot, so the Moon is far away and beautiful and golden. But she is a cruel lady sometimes, too, and it is through her that the poor Little Hare runs about with a slit in his nose to-day.”“Tell us, Outa.” Little Jan dropped on to the rug beside the basket of mealie-cobs, and the others edged nearer.“And why do you call the Moon a lady?” asked Pietie of the inquiring mind.“But doesn’t baasje know that the Moon is a lady? O yes, and for all her beauty she can be cross and cruel sometimes like other ladies, as you will hear.”“Long, long ago, when the world was quite young, the Lady Moon wanted someone to take a message to Men. She tried first one creature and then another, but no! they were all too busy, they couldn’t go. At last she called the Crocodile. He is very slow and not much good, but the Lady Moon thought she would pinch his tail and make him go quickly. So she said to him: ‘Godown to Men at once and give them this message: “As I die and, dying, live, so also shall you die, and, dying, live.”’“Baasjes know how the Moon is sometimes big and round——so”—and Outa’s diminutive hands described a wide circle and remained suspended in the air—“like she is now in the sky. Then every night she gets smaller and smaller, so—so—so—so—so——till——clap!”—the crooked fingers come together with a bang—“there’s no more Moon: she is dead. Then one night a silver horn hangs in the sky—thin, very thin. It is the new Moon that grows, and grows, and gets beautiful and golden.” By the aid of the small claw-like hands the moon grew to the full before the children’s interested eyes. “And so it goes on, always living, and growing, and dying, and living again.“So the Lady Moon pinched old Oom Crocodile’s tail, and he gave one jump and off he started with the message. He went quickly while the Moon watched him, but soon he came to a bend in the road. Roundhe went with a great turn, for a Crocodile’s back is stiff like a plank, he can’t bend it; and then, when he thought he was out of sight, he went slower and slower—drif-draf-drippity-drif-draf, drif-draf-drippity-drif-draf, like a knee-haltered horse. He was toch too lazy.“All of a sudden there was a noise—sh-h-h-h-h—and there was the Little Hare. ‘Ha! ha! ha!’ he laughed, ‘what is the meaning of this drif-draf-drippity-drif-draf? Where are you going in such a hurry, Oom Crocodile?’“‘I can’t stop to speak to you, Neef Haasje,’ said Oom Crocodile, trying to look busy and to hurry up. ‘The Lady Moon has sent me with a message to Men.’“‘And what is the message, Oom Crocodile?’“‘It’s a very important one: “As I die and, dying, live, so also shall you die and, dying, live.”’“‘Ach, but that is a stupid message. And you can’t ever run, Oom, you are so slow.You can only go drif-draf-drippity-drif-draf like a knee-haltered horse, but I go sh-h-h-h-h like the wind. Give the message to me and I will take it.’“‘Very well,’ said the lazy Crocodile, ‘but you must say it over first and get it right.’“So Neef Haasje said the message over and over, and then—sh-h-h-h-h—he was off like the wind. Here he was! there he was! and you could only see the white of his tail and his little behind legs getting small in the distance.“At last he came to Men, and he called them together and said: ‘Listen, Sons of the Baboon, a wise man comes with a message. By the Lady Moon I am sent to tell you: “As I die and, dying, perish, so shall you also die and come wholly to an end.”’“Then Men looked at each other and shivered. All of a sudden the flesh on their arms was like goose-flesh. ‘What shall we do? What is this message that the Lady Moon has sent? “As I die and, dying,perish, so shall you also die and come wholly to an end.”’“They shivered again, and the goose-flesh crept right up their backs and into their hair, and their hair began to rise up on their heads just like—ach no, but Outa forgets, these baasjes don’t know how it is to feel so.” And the wide smile which accompanied these words hid the expression of sly teasing which sparkled in Outa’s dancing black eyes, for he knew what it was to be taken to task for impugning the courage of his young listeners.“But Neef Haasje did not care. He danced away on his behind legs, and laughed and laughed to think how he had cheated Men.“Then he returned again to the Moon, and she asked: ‘What have you said to Men?’“‘O, Lady Moon, I have given them your message: “Like as I die and, dying, perish, so also shall you die and come wholly to an end,” and they are all stiff with fright.Ha! ha! ha!’ Haasje laughed at the thought of it.“‘What! cried the Lady Moon, ‘what! did you tell them that? Child of the devil’s donkey!1you must be punished.’“Ach, but the Lady Moon was very angry. She took a big stick, a kierie—much bigger than the one Outa used to kill lions with when he was young—and if she could have hit him, then”—Outa shook his head hopelessly—“there would have been no more Little Hare: his head would have been cracked right through. But he is a slim kerel. When he saw the big stick coming near, one, two, three, he ducked and slipped away, and it caught him only on the nose.“Foei! but it was sore! Neef Haasje forgot that the Moon was a Lady. He yelled and screamed; he jumped high into the air; he jumped with all his four feet at once; and—scratch, scratch, scratch, hewas kicking, and hitting and clawing the Moon’s face till the pieces flew.“Then he felt better and ran away as hard as he could, holding his broken nose with both hands.“And that is why to-day he goes about with a split nose, and the golden face of the Lady Moon has long dark scars.“Yes, baasjes, fighting is a miserable thing. It does not end when the fight is over. Afterwards there is a sore place—ach, for so long!—and even when it is well, the ugly marks remain to show what has happened. The best, my little masters, is not to fight at all.”1According to a Hottentot legend, the hare is related to the donkey.

VIII.Why the Hare’s Nose is Slit.

The curtains had not yet been drawn nor the shutters closed, and little Jan looked with wide serious eyes at the full moon sailing serenely in the cold sky. Then he sighed as though thoughts too big for expression stirred within him, and turned absently towards the purring fire.“And why does the big man make such a sighing?” asked Outa Karel. “It is like the wind in the mealie land at sun-under.”Little Jan’s eyes slowly withdrew their gaze from some inward vision and became conscious of the old native. “Outa,” he said, “why is the moon so far away, and so beautiful, and so golden?”“Ach! to hear him now! How can Outatell? It is maar so. Just like grass is green and fire is hot, so the Moon is far away and beautiful and golden. But she is a cruel lady sometimes, too, and it is through her that the poor Little Hare runs about with a slit in his nose to-day.”“Tell us, Outa.” Little Jan dropped on to the rug beside the basket of mealie-cobs, and the others edged nearer.“And why do you call the Moon a lady?” asked Pietie of the inquiring mind.“But doesn’t baasje know that the Moon is a lady? O yes, and for all her beauty she can be cross and cruel sometimes like other ladies, as you will hear.”“Long, long ago, when the world was quite young, the Lady Moon wanted someone to take a message to Men. She tried first one creature and then another, but no! they were all too busy, they couldn’t go. At last she called the Crocodile. He is very slow and not much good, but the Lady Moon thought she would pinch his tail and make him go quickly. So she said to him: ‘Godown to Men at once and give them this message: “As I die and, dying, live, so also shall you die, and, dying, live.”’“Baasjes know how the Moon is sometimes big and round——so”—and Outa’s diminutive hands described a wide circle and remained suspended in the air—“like she is now in the sky. Then every night she gets smaller and smaller, so—so—so—so—so——till——clap!”—the crooked fingers come together with a bang—“there’s no more Moon: she is dead. Then one night a silver horn hangs in the sky—thin, very thin. It is the new Moon that grows, and grows, and gets beautiful and golden.” By the aid of the small claw-like hands the moon grew to the full before the children’s interested eyes. “And so it goes on, always living, and growing, and dying, and living again.“So the Lady Moon pinched old Oom Crocodile’s tail, and he gave one jump and off he started with the message. He went quickly while the Moon watched him, but soon he came to a bend in the road. Roundhe went with a great turn, for a Crocodile’s back is stiff like a plank, he can’t bend it; and then, when he thought he was out of sight, he went slower and slower—drif-draf-drippity-drif-draf, drif-draf-drippity-drif-draf, like a knee-haltered horse. He was toch too lazy.“All of a sudden there was a noise—sh-h-h-h-h—and there was the Little Hare. ‘Ha! ha! ha!’ he laughed, ‘what is the meaning of this drif-draf-drippity-drif-draf? Where are you going in such a hurry, Oom Crocodile?’“‘I can’t stop to speak to you, Neef Haasje,’ said Oom Crocodile, trying to look busy and to hurry up. ‘The Lady Moon has sent me with a message to Men.’“‘And what is the message, Oom Crocodile?’“‘It’s a very important one: “As I die and, dying, live, so also shall you die and, dying, live.”’“‘Ach, but that is a stupid message. And you can’t ever run, Oom, you are so slow.You can only go drif-draf-drippity-drif-draf like a knee-haltered horse, but I go sh-h-h-h-h like the wind. Give the message to me and I will take it.’“‘Very well,’ said the lazy Crocodile, ‘but you must say it over first and get it right.’“So Neef Haasje said the message over and over, and then—sh-h-h-h-h—he was off like the wind. Here he was! there he was! and you could only see the white of his tail and his little behind legs getting small in the distance.“At last he came to Men, and he called them together and said: ‘Listen, Sons of the Baboon, a wise man comes with a message. By the Lady Moon I am sent to tell you: “As I die and, dying, perish, so shall you also die and come wholly to an end.”’“Then Men looked at each other and shivered. All of a sudden the flesh on their arms was like goose-flesh. ‘What shall we do? What is this message that the Lady Moon has sent? “As I die and, dying,perish, so shall you also die and come wholly to an end.”’“They shivered again, and the goose-flesh crept right up their backs and into their hair, and their hair began to rise up on their heads just like—ach no, but Outa forgets, these baasjes don’t know how it is to feel so.” And the wide smile which accompanied these words hid the expression of sly teasing which sparkled in Outa’s dancing black eyes, for he knew what it was to be taken to task for impugning the courage of his young listeners.“But Neef Haasje did not care. He danced away on his behind legs, and laughed and laughed to think how he had cheated Men.“Then he returned again to the Moon, and she asked: ‘What have you said to Men?’“‘O, Lady Moon, I have given them your message: “Like as I die and, dying, perish, so also shall you die and come wholly to an end,” and they are all stiff with fright.Ha! ha! ha!’ Haasje laughed at the thought of it.“‘What! cried the Lady Moon, ‘what! did you tell them that? Child of the devil’s donkey!1you must be punished.’“Ach, but the Lady Moon was very angry. She took a big stick, a kierie—much bigger than the one Outa used to kill lions with when he was young—and if she could have hit him, then”—Outa shook his head hopelessly—“there would have been no more Little Hare: his head would have been cracked right through. But he is a slim kerel. When he saw the big stick coming near, one, two, three, he ducked and slipped away, and it caught him only on the nose.“Foei! but it was sore! Neef Haasje forgot that the Moon was a Lady. He yelled and screamed; he jumped high into the air; he jumped with all his four feet at once; and—scratch, scratch, scratch, hewas kicking, and hitting and clawing the Moon’s face till the pieces flew.“Then he felt better and ran away as hard as he could, holding his broken nose with both hands.“And that is why to-day he goes about with a split nose, and the golden face of the Lady Moon has long dark scars.“Yes, baasjes, fighting is a miserable thing. It does not end when the fight is over. Afterwards there is a sore place—ach, for so long!—and even when it is well, the ugly marks remain to show what has happened. The best, my little masters, is not to fight at all.”

The curtains had not yet been drawn nor the shutters closed, and little Jan looked with wide serious eyes at the full moon sailing serenely in the cold sky. Then he sighed as though thoughts too big for expression stirred within him, and turned absently towards the purring fire.

“And why does the big man make such a sighing?” asked Outa Karel. “It is like the wind in the mealie land at sun-under.”

Little Jan’s eyes slowly withdrew their gaze from some inward vision and became conscious of the old native. “Outa,” he said, “why is the moon so far away, and so beautiful, and so golden?”

“Ach! to hear him now! How can Outatell? It is maar so. Just like grass is green and fire is hot, so the Moon is far away and beautiful and golden. But she is a cruel lady sometimes, too, and it is through her that the poor Little Hare runs about with a slit in his nose to-day.”

“Tell us, Outa.” Little Jan dropped on to the rug beside the basket of mealie-cobs, and the others edged nearer.

“And why do you call the Moon a lady?” asked Pietie of the inquiring mind.

“But doesn’t baasje know that the Moon is a lady? O yes, and for all her beauty she can be cross and cruel sometimes like other ladies, as you will hear.”

“Long, long ago, when the world was quite young, the Lady Moon wanted someone to take a message to Men. She tried first one creature and then another, but no! they were all too busy, they couldn’t go. At last she called the Crocodile. He is very slow and not much good, but the Lady Moon thought she would pinch his tail and make him go quickly. So she said to him: ‘Godown to Men at once and give them this message: “As I die and, dying, live, so also shall you die, and, dying, live.”’

“Baasjes know how the Moon is sometimes big and round——so”—and Outa’s diminutive hands described a wide circle and remained suspended in the air—“like she is now in the sky. Then every night she gets smaller and smaller, so—so—so—so—so——till——clap!”—the crooked fingers come together with a bang—“there’s no more Moon: she is dead. Then one night a silver horn hangs in the sky—thin, very thin. It is the new Moon that grows, and grows, and gets beautiful and golden.” By the aid of the small claw-like hands the moon grew to the full before the children’s interested eyes. “And so it goes on, always living, and growing, and dying, and living again.

“So the Lady Moon pinched old Oom Crocodile’s tail, and he gave one jump and off he started with the message. He went quickly while the Moon watched him, but soon he came to a bend in the road. Roundhe went with a great turn, for a Crocodile’s back is stiff like a plank, he can’t bend it; and then, when he thought he was out of sight, he went slower and slower—drif-draf-drippity-drif-draf, drif-draf-drippity-drif-draf, like a knee-haltered horse. He was toch too lazy.

“All of a sudden there was a noise—sh-h-h-h-h—and there was the Little Hare. ‘Ha! ha! ha!’ he laughed, ‘what is the meaning of this drif-draf-drippity-drif-draf? Where are you going in such a hurry, Oom Crocodile?’

“‘I can’t stop to speak to you, Neef Haasje,’ said Oom Crocodile, trying to look busy and to hurry up. ‘The Lady Moon has sent me with a message to Men.’

“‘And what is the message, Oom Crocodile?’

“‘It’s a very important one: “As I die and, dying, live, so also shall you die and, dying, live.”’

“‘Ach, but that is a stupid message. And you can’t ever run, Oom, you are so slow.You can only go drif-draf-drippity-drif-draf like a knee-haltered horse, but I go sh-h-h-h-h like the wind. Give the message to me and I will take it.’

“‘Very well,’ said the lazy Crocodile, ‘but you must say it over first and get it right.’

“So Neef Haasje said the message over and over, and then—sh-h-h-h-h—he was off like the wind. Here he was! there he was! and you could only see the white of his tail and his little behind legs getting small in the distance.

“At last he came to Men, and he called them together and said: ‘Listen, Sons of the Baboon, a wise man comes with a message. By the Lady Moon I am sent to tell you: “As I die and, dying, perish, so shall you also die and come wholly to an end.”’

“Then Men looked at each other and shivered. All of a sudden the flesh on their arms was like goose-flesh. ‘What shall we do? What is this message that the Lady Moon has sent? “As I die and, dying,perish, so shall you also die and come wholly to an end.”’

“They shivered again, and the goose-flesh crept right up their backs and into their hair, and their hair began to rise up on their heads just like—ach no, but Outa forgets, these baasjes don’t know how it is to feel so.” And the wide smile which accompanied these words hid the expression of sly teasing which sparkled in Outa’s dancing black eyes, for he knew what it was to be taken to task for impugning the courage of his young listeners.

“But Neef Haasje did not care. He danced away on his behind legs, and laughed and laughed to think how he had cheated Men.

“Then he returned again to the Moon, and she asked: ‘What have you said to Men?’

“‘O, Lady Moon, I have given them your message: “Like as I die and, dying, perish, so also shall you die and come wholly to an end,” and they are all stiff with fright.Ha! ha! ha!’ Haasje laughed at the thought of it.

“‘What! cried the Lady Moon, ‘what! did you tell them that? Child of the devil’s donkey!1you must be punished.’

“Ach, but the Lady Moon was very angry. She took a big stick, a kierie—much bigger than the one Outa used to kill lions with when he was young—and if she could have hit him, then”—Outa shook his head hopelessly—“there would have been no more Little Hare: his head would have been cracked right through. But he is a slim kerel. When he saw the big stick coming near, one, two, three, he ducked and slipped away, and it caught him only on the nose.

“Foei! but it was sore! Neef Haasje forgot that the Moon was a Lady. He yelled and screamed; he jumped high into the air; he jumped with all his four feet at once; and—scratch, scratch, scratch, hewas kicking, and hitting and clawing the Moon’s face till the pieces flew.

“Then he felt better and ran away as hard as he could, holding his broken nose with both hands.

“And that is why to-day he goes about with a split nose, and the golden face of the Lady Moon has long dark scars.

“Yes, baasjes, fighting is a miserable thing. It does not end when the fight is over. Afterwards there is a sore place—ach, for so long!—and even when it is well, the ugly marks remain to show what has happened. The best, my little masters, is not to fight at all.”

1According to a Hottentot legend, the hare is related to the donkey.

1According to a Hottentot legend, the hare is related to the donkey.

IX.How the Jackal got his Stripe.“The Sun was a strange little child,” said Outa. “He never had any Pap-pa or Mam-ma. No one knew where he came from. He was just found by the roadside.“In the olden days when the men of the Ancient Race—the old, old people that lived so long ago—were trekking in search of game, they heard a little voice calling, calling. It was not a springbokkie, it was not a tarentaal, it was not a little ostrich. They couldn’t think what it was. But it kept on, it kept on.” Outa’s head nodded in time to his repetitions.“Why didn’t they go and look?” asked Willem.“They did, my baasje. They hunted aboutamongst the milk-bushes by the roadside, and at last under one of them they found a nice brown baby. He was lying quite still looking about him, not like a baby, baasjes, but like an old child, and sparks of light, as bright as the sparks from Outa’s tinderbox, seemed to fly out of his eyes. When he saw the men, he began calling again.“‘Carry me, carry me! Pick me up and carry me!’“‘Arré! he can talk,’ said the man. ‘What a fine little child! Where have your people gone? and why did they leave you here?’“But the little Sun wouldn’t answer them. All he said was, ‘Put me in your awa-skin. I’m tired; I can’t walk.’“One of the men went to take him up, but when he got near he said, ‘Soe! but he’s hot; the heat comes out of him.Iwon’t take him.’“‘How can you be so silly?’ said another man. ‘I’ll carry him.’“But when he got near, he started back. ‘Alla! what eyes! Fire comes out of them.’ And he, too, turned away.“Then a third man went. ‘He is very small,’ he said; ‘I can easily put him in my awa-skin.’ He stooped and took the little Sun under his arms.“‘Ohé! ohé! ohé!’ he cried, dropping the baby on to the red sand. ‘What is this for toverij! It is like fire under his arms. He burns me when I take him up.’“The others all came round to see. They didn’t cometoonear, my baasjes, because they were frightened, but they wanted to see the strange brown baby that could talk, and that burned like a fire.“All on a sudden he stretched himself; he turned his head and put up his little arms. Bright sparks flew from his eyes, and yellow light streamed from under his arms, and—hierr, skierr—the Men of the Early Race fell over each other as they ran through the milk-bushes back to the road. My! but they were frightened!“The women were sitting there with their babies on their backs, waiting for their husbands.“‘Come along! Hurry! hurry! See that you get away from here,’ said the men, without stopping.“The women began to run, too.“‘What was it? What did you find?’“‘A terrible something,’ said the men, still running. ‘It pretends to be a baby, but weknowit is amensevreter. There it lies in the sand, begging one of us to pick it up and put it in his awa-skin, but as soon as we go near, it tries to burn us; and if we don’t make haste and get away from here, it will certainly catch us.’“The women with their babies on their backs, flew”“The women with their babies on their backs, flew”Face page 81]“Then they ran faster than ever. Baasjes know—ach no!” corrected Outa, with a sly smile; “Outa means baasjes don’t know—how frightenness makes wings grow on people’s feet, so that they seem to fly. So the Men of the Early Race, and the women with their babies on their backs, flew, and very soon they were far from the place where the little Sun was lying.“But someone had been watching, my baasjes, watching from a bush near by. Itwas Jakhals, with his bright eyes and his sharp nose, and his stomach close to the ground. When the people had gone, he crept out to see what had made them run. Hardly a leaf stirred, not a sound was heard,sosoftly he crept along under the milk-bushes to where the little Sun lay.“‘Ach, what a fine little child has been left behind by the men!’ he said. ‘Now that is really a shame—that none of them would put it into his awa-skin.’“‘Carry me, carry me! Put me in your awa-skin,’ said the little Sun.“‘I haven’t got an awa-skin, baasje,’ said Jakhals, ‘but if you can hold on, I’ll carry you on my back.’“So Jakhals lay flat on his stomach, and the little Sun caught hold of his maanhaar, and rolled round on his back.“‘Where do you want to go?’ asked Jakhals.“‘There, where it far is,’ said the baby, sleepily.“Jakhals trotted off with his nose to theground and a sly look in his eye.Hedidn’t care where the baby wanted to go; he was just going to carry him off to the krantz where Tante and the young Jakhalses lived. If baasjes could have seen his face!Alle wereld!he was smiling, and when Oom Jakhals smiles, it is the wickedest sight in the world. He was very pleased to think what he was taking home; fat brown babies are as nice as fat sheep-tails, so he went along quite jolly.“But only at first. Soon his back began to burn where the baby’s arms went round it. The heat got worse and worse, until he couldn’t hold it out any longer.“‘Soe! Soe! Baasje burns me,’ he cried. ‘Sail down a little further, baasje, so that my neck can get cool.’“The little Sun slipped further down and held fast again, and Jakhals trotted on.“But soon he called out again, ‘Soe! Soe! Now the middle of my back burns. Sail down still a little further.’“The little Sun went further down andheld fast again.And so it went on. Every time Jakhals called out that he was burning, the baby slipped a little further, and a little further, till at last he had hold of Jakhals by the tail, and then he wouldn’t let go. Even when Jakhals called out, he held on, and Jakhals’s tail burnt and burnt. My! it was quite black!“‘Help! help!’ he screamed! ‘Ach, you devil’s child! Get off! Let go! I’ll punish you for this! I’ll bite you! I’ll gobble you up! My tail is burning! Help! Help!’ And he jumped, and bucked, and rushed about the veld, till at last the baby had to let go.“Then Jakhals voertsed1round, and ran at the little Sun to bite him and gobble him up. But when he got near, a funny thing happened, my baasjes. Yes truly, just when he was going to bite, he stopped halfway, and shivered back as if someone had beaten him. At first he had growled with crossness, but now he began to whine from frightenness.“And why was it, my baasjes? Because from under the baby’s arms streamed brightness and hotness, and out of the baby’s eyes came streaks of fire, so that Jakhals winked and blinked, and tried to make himself small in the sand. Every time he opened his eyes a little, just like slits, there was the baby sitting straight in front of him, staring at him so that he had to shut them again quick, quick.“‘Come and punish me,’ said the baby.“‘No, baasje, ach no!’ said Jakhals in a small, little voice, ‘why should I punish you?’“‘Come and bite me,’ said the baby.“‘No, baasje, no, I could never think of it.’ Jakhals made himself still a little smaller in the sand.“‘Come and gobble me up,’ said the baby.“Then Jakhals gave a yell and tried to crawl further back.“‘Such a fine little child,’ he said, trying to make his voice sweet, ‘who would ever do such a wicked thing?’“‘You would,’ said the little Sun. ‘When you had carried me safely to your krantz, you would have gobbled me up. You aretochso clever, Jakhals, but sometimes you will meet your match. Now, look at me well.’“Jakhals didn’t want to look, my baasjes, but it was just as if something made his eyes go open, and he lay there staring at the baby, and the baby stared at him—so, my baasjes, just so”—Outa stretched his eyes to their utmost and held each fascinated child in turn.“‘You’ll know me again when you see me,’ said the baby, ‘but never, never again will you be able to look me in the face. And now you cango.’“Fierce light shot from his eyes, and he blew at Jakhals with all his might; his breath was like a burning flame, and Jakhals, half dead with frightenness, gave a great howl and fled away over the vlakte.“From that day, my baasjes, he has a black stripe right down his back to the tip of his tail. And he cannot bear the Sun,but hides away all day with shut eyes, and only at night when the Old Man with the bright armpits has gone to sleep, does he come out to hunt and look for food, and play tricks on the other animals.”1Voertsed.—Evidently a word of Outa’s coining, meaning to jump round suddenly and violently.

IX.How the Jackal got his Stripe.

“The Sun was a strange little child,” said Outa. “He never had any Pap-pa or Mam-ma. No one knew where he came from. He was just found by the roadside.“In the olden days when the men of the Ancient Race—the old, old people that lived so long ago—were trekking in search of game, they heard a little voice calling, calling. It was not a springbokkie, it was not a tarentaal, it was not a little ostrich. They couldn’t think what it was. But it kept on, it kept on.” Outa’s head nodded in time to his repetitions.“Why didn’t they go and look?” asked Willem.“They did, my baasje. They hunted aboutamongst the milk-bushes by the roadside, and at last under one of them they found a nice brown baby. He was lying quite still looking about him, not like a baby, baasjes, but like an old child, and sparks of light, as bright as the sparks from Outa’s tinderbox, seemed to fly out of his eyes. When he saw the men, he began calling again.“‘Carry me, carry me! Pick me up and carry me!’“‘Arré! he can talk,’ said the man. ‘What a fine little child! Where have your people gone? and why did they leave you here?’“But the little Sun wouldn’t answer them. All he said was, ‘Put me in your awa-skin. I’m tired; I can’t walk.’“One of the men went to take him up, but when he got near he said, ‘Soe! but he’s hot; the heat comes out of him.Iwon’t take him.’“‘How can you be so silly?’ said another man. ‘I’ll carry him.’“But when he got near, he started back. ‘Alla! what eyes! Fire comes out of them.’ And he, too, turned away.“Then a third man went. ‘He is very small,’ he said; ‘I can easily put him in my awa-skin.’ He stooped and took the little Sun under his arms.“‘Ohé! ohé! ohé!’ he cried, dropping the baby on to the red sand. ‘What is this for toverij! It is like fire under his arms. He burns me when I take him up.’“The others all came round to see. They didn’t cometoonear, my baasjes, because they were frightened, but they wanted to see the strange brown baby that could talk, and that burned like a fire.“All on a sudden he stretched himself; he turned his head and put up his little arms. Bright sparks flew from his eyes, and yellow light streamed from under his arms, and—hierr, skierr—the Men of the Early Race fell over each other as they ran through the milk-bushes back to the road. My! but they were frightened!“The women were sitting there with their babies on their backs, waiting for their husbands.“‘Come along! Hurry! hurry! See that you get away from here,’ said the men, without stopping.“The women began to run, too.“‘What was it? What did you find?’“‘A terrible something,’ said the men, still running. ‘It pretends to be a baby, but weknowit is amensevreter. There it lies in the sand, begging one of us to pick it up and put it in his awa-skin, but as soon as we go near, it tries to burn us; and if we don’t make haste and get away from here, it will certainly catch us.’“The women with their babies on their backs, flew”“The women with their babies on their backs, flew”Face page 81]“Then they ran faster than ever. Baasjes know—ach no!” corrected Outa, with a sly smile; “Outa means baasjes don’t know—how frightenness makes wings grow on people’s feet, so that they seem to fly. So the Men of the Early Race, and the women with their babies on their backs, flew, and very soon they were far from the place where the little Sun was lying.“But someone had been watching, my baasjes, watching from a bush near by. Itwas Jakhals, with his bright eyes and his sharp nose, and his stomach close to the ground. When the people had gone, he crept out to see what had made them run. Hardly a leaf stirred, not a sound was heard,sosoftly he crept along under the milk-bushes to where the little Sun lay.“‘Ach, what a fine little child has been left behind by the men!’ he said. ‘Now that is really a shame—that none of them would put it into his awa-skin.’“‘Carry me, carry me! Put me in your awa-skin,’ said the little Sun.“‘I haven’t got an awa-skin, baasje,’ said Jakhals, ‘but if you can hold on, I’ll carry you on my back.’“So Jakhals lay flat on his stomach, and the little Sun caught hold of his maanhaar, and rolled round on his back.“‘Where do you want to go?’ asked Jakhals.“‘There, where it far is,’ said the baby, sleepily.“Jakhals trotted off with his nose to theground and a sly look in his eye.Hedidn’t care where the baby wanted to go; he was just going to carry him off to the krantz where Tante and the young Jakhalses lived. If baasjes could have seen his face!Alle wereld!he was smiling, and when Oom Jakhals smiles, it is the wickedest sight in the world. He was very pleased to think what he was taking home; fat brown babies are as nice as fat sheep-tails, so he went along quite jolly.“But only at first. Soon his back began to burn where the baby’s arms went round it. The heat got worse and worse, until he couldn’t hold it out any longer.“‘Soe! Soe! Baasje burns me,’ he cried. ‘Sail down a little further, baasje, so that my neck can get cool.’“The little Sun slipped further down and held fast again, and Jakhals trotted on.“But soon he called out again, ‘Soe! Soe! Now the middle of my back burns. Sail down still a little further.’“The little Sun went further down andheld fast again.And so it went on. Every time Jakhals called out that he was burning, the baby slipped a little further, and a little further, till at last he had hold of Jakhals by the tail, and then he wouldn’t let go. Even when Jakhals called out, he held on, and Jakhals’s tail burnt and burnt. My! it was quite black!“‘Help! help!’ he screamed! ‘Ach, you devil’s child! Get off! Let go! I’ll punish you for this! I’ll bite you! I’ll gobble you up! My tail is burning! Help! Help!’ And he jumped, and bucked, and rushed about the veld, till at last the baby had to let go.“Then Jakhals voertsed1round, and ran at the little Sun to bite him and gobble him up. But when he got near, a funny thing happened, my baasjes. Yes truly, just when he was going to bite, he stopped halfway, and shivered back as if someone had beaten him. At first he had growled with crossness, but now he began to whine from frightenness.“And why was it, my baasjes? Because from under the baby’s arms streamed brightness and hotness, and out of the baby’s eyes came streaks of fire, so that Jakhals winked and blinked, and tried to make himself small in the sand. Every time he opened his eyes a little, just like slits, there was the baby sitting straight in front of him, staring at him so that he had to shut them again quick, quick.“‘Come and punish me,’ said the baby.“‘No, baasje, ach no!’ said Jakhals in a small, little voice, ‘why should I punish you?’“‘Come and bite me,’ said the baby.“‘No, baasje, no, I could never think of it.’ Jakhals made himself still a little smaller in the sand.“‘Come and gobble me up,’ said the baby.“Then Jakhals gave a yell and tried to crawl further back.“‘Such a fine little child,’ he said, trying to make his voice sweet, ‘who would ever do such a wicked thing?’“‘You would,’ said the little Sun. ‘When you had carried me safely to your krantz, you would have gobbled me up. You aretochso clever, Jakhals, but sometimes you will meet your match. Now, look at me well.’“Jakhals didn’t want to look, my baasjes, but it was just as if something made his eyes go open, and he lay there staring at the baby, and the baby stared at him—so, my baasjes, just so”—Outa stretched his eyes to their utmost and held each fascinated child in turn.“‘You’ll know me again when you see me,’ said the baby, ‘but never, never again will you be able to look me in the face. And now you cango.’“Fierce light shot from his eyes, and he blew at Jakhals with all his might; his breath was like a burning flame, and Jakhals, half dead with frightenness, gave a great howl and fled away over the vlakte.“From that day, my baasjes, he has a black stripe right down his back to the tip of his tail. And he cannot bear the Sun,but hides away all day with shut eyes, and only at night when the Old Man with the bright armpits has gone to sleep, does he come out to hunt and look for food, and play tricks on the other animals.”

“The Sun was a strange little child,” said Outa. “He never had any Pap-pa or Mam-ma. No one knew where he came from. He was just found by the roadside.

“In the olden days when the men of the Ancient Race—the old, old people that lived so long ago—were trekking in search of game, they heard a little voice calling, calling. It was not a springbokkie, it was not a tarentaal, it was not a little ostrich. They couldn’t think what it was. But it kept on, it kept on.” Outa’s head nodded in time to his repetitions.

“Why didn’t they go and look?” asked Willem.

“They did, my baasje. They hunted aboutamongst the milk-bushes by the roadside, and at last under one of them they found a nice brown baby. He was lying quite still looking about him, not like a baby, baasjes, but like an old child, and sparks of light, as bright as the sparks from Outa’s tinderbox, seemed to fly out of his eyes. When he saw the men, he began calling again.

“‘Carry me, carry me! Pick me up and carry me!’

“‘Arré! he can talk,’ said the man. ‘What a fine little child! Where have your people gone? and why did they leave you here?’

“But the little Sun wouldn’t answer them. All he said was, ‘Put me in your awa-skin. I’m tired; I can’t walk.’

“One of the men went to take him up, but when he got near he said, ‘Soe! but he’s hot; the heat comes out of him.Iwon’t take him.’

“‘How can you be so silly?’ said another man. ‘I’ll carry him.’

“But when he got near, he started back. ‘Alla! what eyes! Fire comes out of them.’ And he, too, turned away.

“Then a third man went. ‘He is very small,’ he said; ‘I can easily put him in my awa-skin.’ He stooped and took the little Sun under his arms.

“‘Ohé! ohé! ohé!’ he cried, dropping the baby on to the red sand. ‘What is this for toverij! It is like fire under his arms. He burns me when I take him up.’

“The others all came round to see. They didn’t cometoonear, my baasjes, because they were frightened, but they wanted to see the strange brown baby that could talk, and that burned like a fire.

“All on a sudden he stretched himself; he turned his head and put up his little arms. Bright sparks flew from his eyes, and yellow light streamed from under his arms, and—hierr, skierr—the Men of the Early Race fell over each other as they ran through the milk-bushes back to the road. My! but they were frightened!

“The women were sitting there with their babies on their backs, waiting for their husbands.

“‘Come along! Hurry! hurry! See that you get away from here,’ said the men, without stopping.

“The women began to run, too.

“‘What was it? What did you find?’

“‘A terrible something,’ said the men, still running. ‘It pretends to be a baby, but weknowit is amensevreter. There it lies in the sand, begging one of us to pick it up and put it in his awa-skin, but as soon as we go near, it tries to burn us; and if we don’t make haste and get away from here, it will certainly catch us.’

“The women with their babies on their backs, flew”“The women with their babies on their backs, flew”Face page 81]

“The women with their babies on their backs, flew”

Face page 81]

“Then they ran faster than ever. Baasjes know—ach no!” corrected Outa, with a sly smile; “Outa means baasjes don’t know—how frightenness makes wings grow on people’s feet, so that they seem to fly. So the Men of the Early Race, and the women with their babies on their backs, flew, and very soon they were far from the place where the little Sun was lying.

“But someone had been watching, my baasjes, watching from a bush near by. Itwas Jakhals, with his bright eyes and his sharp nose, and his stomach close to the ground. When the people had gone, he crept out to see what had made them run. Hardly a leaf stirred, not a sound was heard,sosoftly he crept along under the milk-bushes to where the little Sun lay.

“‘Ach, what a fine little child has been left behind by the men!’ he said. ‘Now that is really a shame—that none of them would put it into his awa-skin.’

“‘Carry me, carry me! Put me in your awa-skin,’ said the little Sun.

“‘I haven’t got an awa-skin, baasje,’ said Jakhals, ‘but if you can hold on, I’ll carry you on my back.’

“So Jakhals lay flat on his stomach, and the little Sun caught hold of his maanhaar, and rolled round on his back.

“‘Where do you want to go?’ asked Jakhals.

“‘There, where it far is,’ said the baby, sleepily.

“Jakhals trotted off with his nose to theground and a sly look in his eye.Hedidn’t care where the baby wanted to go; he was just going to carry him off to the krantz where Tante and the young Jakhalses lived. If baasjes could have seen his face!Alle wereld!he was smiling, and when Oom Jakhals smiles, it is the wickedest sight in the world. He was very pleased to think what he was taking home; fat brown babies are as nice as fat sheep-tails, so he went along quite jolly.

“But only at first. Soon his back began to burn where the baby’s arms went round it. The heat got worse and worse, until he couldn’t hold it out any longer.

“‘Soe! Soe! Baasje burns me,’ he cried. ‘Sail down a little further, baasje, so that my neck can get cool.’

“The little Sun slipped further down and held fast again, and Jakhals trotted on.

“But soon he called out again, ‘Soe! Soe! Now the middle of my back burns. Sail down still a little further.’

“The little Sun went further down andheld fast again.And so it went on. Every time Jakhals called out that he was burning, the baby slipped a little further, and a little further, till at last he had hold of Jakhals by the tail, and then he wouldn’t let go. Even when Jakhals called out, he held on, and Jakhals’s tail burnt and burnt. My! it was quite black!

“‘Help! help!’ he screamed! ‘Ach, you devil’s child! Get off! Let go! I’ll punish you for this! I’ll bite you! I’ll gobble you up! My tail is burning! Help! Help!’ And he jumped, and bucked, and rushed about the veld, till at last the baby had to let go.

“Then Jakhals voertsed1round, and ran at the little Sun to bite him and gobble him up. But when he got near, a funny thing happened, my baasjes. Yes truly, just when he was going to bite, he stopped halfway, and shivered back as if someone had beaten him. At first he had growled with crossness, but now he began to whine from frightenness.

“And why was it, my baasjes? Because from under the baby’s arms streamed brightness and hotness, and out of the baby’s eyes came streaks of fire, so that Jakhals winked and blinked, and tried to make himself small in the sand. Every time he opened his eyes a little, just like slits, there was the baby sitting straight in front of him, staring at him so that he had to shut them again quick, quick.

“‘Come and punish me,’ said the baby.

“‘No, baasje, ach no!’ said Jakhals in a small, little voice, ‘why should I punish you?’

“‘Come and bite me,’ said the baby.

“‘No, baasje, no, I could never think of it.’ Jakhals made himself still a little smaller in the sand.

“‘Come and gobble me up,’ said the baby.

“Then Jakhals gave a yell and tried to crawl further back.

“‘Such a fine little child,’ he said, trying to make his voice sweet, ‘who would ever do such a wicked thing?’

“‘You would,’ said the little Sun. ‘When you had carried me safely to your krantz, you would have gobbled me up. You aretochso clever, Jakhals, but sometimes you will meet your match. Now, look at me well.’

“Jakhals didn’t want to look, my baasjes, but it was just as if something made his eyes go open, and he lay there staring at the baby, and the baby stared at him—so, my baasjes, just so”—Outa stretched his eyes to their utmost and held each fascinated child in turn.

“‘You’ll know me again when you see me,’ said the baby, ‘but never, never again will you be able to look me in the face. And now you cango.’

“Fierce light shot from his eyes, and he blew at Jakhals with all his might; his breath was like a burning flame, and Jakhals, half dead with frightenness, gave a great howl and fled away over the vlakte.

“From that day, my baasjes, he has a black stripe right down his back to the tip of his tail. And he cannot bear the Sun,but hides away all day with shut eyes, and only at night when the Old Man with the bright armpits has gone to sleep, does he come out to hunt and look for food, and play tricks on the other animals.”

1Voertsed.—Evidently a word of Outa’s coining, meaning to jump round suddenly and violently.

1Voertsed.—Evidently a word of Outa’s coining, meaning to jump round suddenly and violently.

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