“King Khatsua say this,” he observed curtly. “You very bad men; you come to Barolong land. King Khatsua say, Barolong land for Barolong. No allow white man dig here for diamonds. If white man come, him eat up Barolong. Keep white man out; keep land for King Khatsua.”
“Does King Khatsua want us to leave his country, then?” Granville Kelmscott asked, with a distinct tremor in his voice, for the great chief and his followers looked decidedly hostile.
The interpreter threw back his head and laughed a loud long laugh.
“King Khatsua not a fool!” he answered at last, after a rhetorical pause. “King Khatsua no want to give up his land to white man. If you two white man go back to Kimberley, you tell plenty other people, ‘Diamonds in Barolong land.’ You say, ‘Come along o’ me to Barolong land with gun; we show you where to dig ‘um!’ No, no, King Khatsua not a fool. King Khatsua say this. You two white man no go back to Kimberley. You spies. You stop here plenty time along o’ King Khatsua. Never go back, till King Khatsua give leave. So no let any other white man come along into Barolong land.”
Granville looked at Guy, and Guy looked at Granville. In this last extremity, before those domineering blacks, they almost forgot everything, save that they were both English. What were they to do now? The situation was becoming truly terrible.
The interpreter went on once more, however, with genuine savage enjoyment of the consternation he was causing them.
“King Khatsua say this,” he continued, in a very amused tone. “You stop here plenty days, very good, in Barolong land. King Khatsua give you hut; King Khatsua give you claim; Barolong man bring spear and guard you. No do you any harm for fear of Governor. Governor keep plenty guns in Cape Town. You two white man live in hut together, dig diamonds together; get plenty pebbles. Keep one diamond you find for yourself; give one diamond after that to King Khatsua. Barolong man bring you plenty food, plenty drink, but no let you go back. You try to go, then Barolong man spear you.”
The playful dig with which the savage thrust forward his assegai at that final remark showed Granville Kelmscott in a moment this was no idle threat. It was clear for the present they must accept the inevitable. They must remain in Barolong land; and he must share hut and work with that doubly hateful creature—the man who had deprived him of his patrimony at Tilgate, and whom he firmly believed to be the murderer of Montague Nevitt. This was what had come then of his journey to Africa! Truly, adversity makes us acquainted with strange bedfellows!