Stretched out near the flickering embers of an expiring camp fire, not half a day's trek from the Vaal River, lay what, at first view, appeared to be bundles of rags. A closer inspection showed them to be the prostrate forms of two men, asleep. Huddled close together, as if seeking all possible protection from the keen air of the open veldt, they appeared grateful even for the little warmth that still came from the dying fire. Every now and again a tiny flame, bursting from one of the smouldering logs, would light up the recumbent figures, revealing a brief glimpse of the sleepers.
Both bore traces of desperate need. The rags they wore were filthy, and gave only scant protection from the weather, their emaciated faces and hollowed cheeks told eloquently of many days of fatigue and hunger; their feet, long since without shoes, were clumsily protected from the rocky veldt by pieces of coarse sacking. For weeks they had tramped across the great, merciless desert, guided only by the stars, often losing the trail, begging their way from farm to farm, glad to do little jobs for friendly Boers in return for a meal, always in peril of attack by hostile Kaffirs, yet never halting, trudging ever onward in their anxiety to reach the coast. That was the haven they painfully sought—the open sea where at least there was a chance to die among their fellows and not perish miserably like dogs on the lonely. God-forsaken plains, with only the howling jackal and the screaming vulture to pick their bones.
They had tried and they had lost in the great gamble. Like thousands of other reckless adventurers attracted to the newly discovered diamond country, they had rushed out there from England, confident that they, too, could wrest from nature that wonderful gem, ever associated with tragedy and romance, mystery and crime, for the possession of which, since history began, men have been ready to give up their lives. Confident of their success, they had risked all on a turn of the wheel, and Fortune, mocking their puny efforts, had first ruined and then degraded them, afterward sending them back home to die.
It was now quite light. The fire, which had flickered up fitfully at intervals, was entirely extinguished. A chilly wind had started to blow from the plateau on the north. The strangers stirred uneasily in their sleep and awoke almost simultaneously. Sitting up with a start, they yawned and rubbed their eyes.
"What show o' gettin' some breakfast, Handsome?" asked the smaller of the two.
"Damned little!" was the profane and laconic rejoinder.
They were men still in the early thirties. One was short and stocky, his face slightly pock-marked. Pictures of a mermaid and anchor clumsily tattooed in indigo on his wrist showed him to be a sailor. In fact, Dick Hickey, boatswain on H. H. S. Tartar, having taken French leave of his ship, as she lay in Cape Town Harbor, ran a very good chance of being taken back to England in irons as a deserter. Just now he was serenely indifferent as to what happened to him. Half dead from exposure and lack of nourishment, he would have gladly welcomed ship's officers or anybody else so long as there was some relief from his present sufferings. Meantime he spent what little breath he had left in cursing his hard luck, and blaming his companion as being solely responsible for his misfortune.
The latter was some few years his senior, stalwart and clean-limbed. He appeared to be over six feet in height and a man of splendid physique. At first glance it was evident that he came of superior stock. His shapely hands were grimy, his eyes of a peculiarly light shade of blue were hollow and haggard looking. His face, emaciated and ghastly, was almost livid. A clean-cut chin was covered with several weeks' growth of beard. Yet, underneath all these repellant externals, there was in his every attitude that indefinable refinement of manner which the world always associates with a gentleman. His dark hair, disheveled and matted, was unusually thick and bushy, with the exception of one spot, in the center of his forehead, where there was a single white lock, a capillary phenomenon, which imparted at once to his face from its very unusualness an individuality quite its own.
No one knew who he was or where he came from. They called him "Handsome Jack," partly because of his good looks and also on account of his reckless liberality with his cronies when flush. What his real name was no one knew or cared. It was a time when no one asked questions. As soon as the news of the astonishing diamond discoveries reached Europe, men began to flock to South Africa. Adventurers from all over the world gathered in Cape Town, a motley crew of incompetents and blacklegs, an investigation into the antecedents of any of whom was apt to have unpleasant results. That he was a professional gambler, he made no attempt to conceal, and that he had knocked about the world a good deal was also to be inferred from his wide knowledge of men and places. A man of aggressive, domineering personality, he was not without a certain following, attracted by his skill with cards and dice, but he was more feared than liked, and his reputation as a dangerous gunman kept inquisitive strangers at a safe distance. He was well known in every den frequented by the criminal and vicious, and it was in one of these resorts that Hickey had met him. The sailor had lost all his savings at faro. Dead broke, he was ready for anything which promised to recoup his fortunes. Handsome Jack laid before him a scheme which would make them both rich beyond the dreams of avarice. The recent discoveries on the Vaal had startled the world. A native had picked up a stone weighing over 80 carats. They might be equally lucky. All that was needed was pluck and patience. The plan was to make their way as best they could to the Vaal fields, jump a claim, and dig for diamonds.
They set out secretly, avoiding the larger caravans, making the long trek across the great plateau, partly by ox wagon, partly on foot. The trail led through a wild, desolate country, and gradually they left civilization hundreds of miles behind them. As far as the eye could reach in every direction was a monotonous desert of stone and sand, broken every now and then by small kopjies, the sides and summits of which were sparsely covered with thick brush and coarse grass. Scattered here and there, some twenty miles apart, were the homesteads of the Boer farmers and the thatched kraals of the dark-skinned Kaffirs. Over this lonely waste sheep and cattle wandered undisturbed by springbok, ostriches, crocodiles, mountain lions and other wild animals.