“There are men hurrying from the kraal,” said Sirayo quietly.
“Let them come;” and Hume, without turning his head, drew his knife and began feverishly to scratch a yellow patch. “It is as hard as iron,” he muttered; “we shall have to blow it to pieces.”
“It has been long here,” said Sirayo, “that snake of stone, looking over the plain at the mountains. The people think it watches over them.”
“The people are fools,” said Hume gruffly. “There is gold enough here to buy up their cattle ten times over.”
“Soh! If they had so many cattle, other nations would have eaten them up. As it is, they have lived in peace to the present.”
“A fragment has been broken off here,” muttered Hume, going down on his knees; “and the vein runs right into the rock. Why, it spreads right over here!” He crept over the flat rock, thinking nothing of the stains of blood, and cried out that the whole bed was thickly shot with gold. “The rock has been cut down all round—see, here are the marks of the chisel! Miners have been at work here—white men.”
“No white people have been here. So they told me; but here are those who can answer best.”
A band of warriors led by an old Induna rapidly approached. The leader held a white wand in his hand; the warriors wore their blankets, which fell gracefully over their right shoulders, covering their right arms.
“Greeting!” said the old man.
“Greeting!” said Sirayo courteously.