“Said Jesus, to whom be peace, the world is a bridge, pass over it, but build no house there.”
As we talked, Makupi in his brick-red blanket passed down the sloping pathway towards the zinia-sea, and when he came to its beach squatted himself down, took his piano from his hair, and began his sombre beating.
Tom—brr—torn—brr—torn—brr—tom-tom-tom-brr.
It seemed to me that I heard the throbbing of a human heart laid upon the stone altar of some monstrous god. My eyes wandered to the hills again. Then suddenly I knew that it was the thought of leaving them that filled me with such haunting despair—the far-off Matoppos that held for me some hidden mystery, some magic that drew my eyes at dawn, and at setting of sun. On moonlit nights I would often rise from my bed to gaze at them and wonder.
Tom—brr—torn—brr—torn—brr.
“Call him over here, Deirdre,” said Maurice suddenly. “Let’s give him back his e’tambo.”
Putting his hand into an inner pocket he drew out a small black object and handed it to me. It was a little bone taken from the joint of a sheep (the boys call them dolour-ossi, and often play with them). But this one was black, either with age or by some artificial process, and polished until it gleamed like a jewel. On it was traced in spidery lines the profile of some weird quadruped of the same description as the Hottentot drawings on the rocks; otherwise there was not the slightest thing about it to suggest mystery or romance. Yet Makupi was eating his heart out and growing hollow-eyed for lack of it. He wanted to go back to his kraal in Mashonaland, he told me, but would never leave until he got his e’tambo back from the Inkos. He had even offered me some mysterious bribe if I would steal it for him. Something about a mysterious gold mine, no doubt, I thought, and laughed. But I always wished Maurice would give it to the poor fellow. Lately we had become so accustomed to seeing him about that I think we had almost forgotten what he was there for.
But he had not forgotten. When I called to him to come, that the Inkos had something for him, his thoughts flew at once to his charm, and he leaped to his feet and came running. He guessed what it was Maurice had hidden in his hand.
“But what about that wonderful secret you were going to tell me, Makupi?” I laughed. He rolled his eager sad eyes at me.
“Give me my e’tambo first. You will be glad.”