This caused more excitement, laughter, and screeching, until the poor little calf began to strain at its grass rope in an effort to get away. Nomusa patted her. “Do not be afraid, little calf. I will not let anyone hurt you.”
While she was talking to the calf, Damasi’s sister Intombi, a year older than Nomusa, came up to her and said, “It is a fine calf. Do you like it?”
“Who would not?” answered Nomusa. “She will be a beautiful cow.” Then, seeing Intombi’s bulging neck-pocket, she pointed to it. “What have you in there?”
“I will gladly show you,” said Intombi. “But you must show me what is in your pocket, too.”
Nomusa opened her neck-pocket and drew from it a red and green feather, now somewhat bent—the one she had found at the stream.
“M-m-m-m!” said Intombi, admiringly. “What else have you?”
Nomusa’s fingers probed the depths of her pocket. She brought out a lovely bead of clay, brown, with a red and yellow border. The bead was no bigger than a small grape. “I made it myself,” explained Nomusa. “I found a very special kind of clay, mixed the colors, and then baked it in the sun. Do you like it?”
“I do,” said Intombi. “If you will part with it, I will give you this.” She quickly loosened her bulging neck-pocket and took out something brown, spotted with white. It looked very soft and furry.
“Why, it’s a deer mouse!” cried Nomusa. “Where did you get it?”
“I found it nibbling in my mother’s garden. If you like it, you may have it in exchange for the bead.”