“I’ve got something belonging to him here,” said Max, producing the diamond. “He picked it up on the bank of the river. He wants you to sell it and give him half the price.”
Nathan took the stone and glanced at it. Then he gave a short whistle expressive of surprise and walked over to the window, in the light from which he examined the stone carefully. This done he slipped it into his trouser pocket and turned again to Max—
“No, my boy; that’s a little too thin. Stones like this are not picked up in Bushmanland. This here diamond has been stolen from Kimberley, and I mean to keep it until I can restore it to its rightful owner. See?”
Here he winked. Max looked at him with deep scorn. Nathan left the shop and walked to a short distance, whistling a lively tune. Then he stood and critically regarded the sunset, with his hands in his pockets.
Soon afterwards old Gemsbok drove up the flock of sheep to where they always lay at night, on the side of the kopje behind the shop. Nathan called to him, and he came.
“Well, you’re a nice sort of a scarecrow to come here spinning yarns about picking up diamonds in Bushmanland. I’ve a good mind to send you to the magistrate for having a stolen diamond in your possession.”
“The diamond is not a stolen one, Baas.”
“A likely story. I suppose you’ll tell me next that you’ve never been to Kimberley, eh?”
“I have been to Kimberley, Baas.”
“I thought so. Perhaps you’ll tell me next that you’ve never been in the tronk, either, eh?”