I reached the homestead just as dusk was setting in. After supper I again went to pay my respects to old Sarei. He greeted me with cheerfulness—
“Well, they say no Englishman can shoot, yet I hear you killed two bucks to-day.”
“Yes,” I replied, “I killed two bucks, and I almost wish I had not done so. It seemed to be a sin to shed blood in such a place and on such a day.”
Old Sarei turned his mild, inquiring, blind eyes upon me, but made no reply. We sat and smoked in silence for a while.
“Can you tell me anything about an inscription I saw upon a rock to-day—‘Here a sinner became converted’?”
“Yes,” he replied, after a pause, “I am the sinner. My son cut the words upon the stone at my wish.”
I held silence, so he shortly afterwards asked—“Would you like me to tell you of what happened?”
“Yes, I should be most grateful.”
“I was born on this farm,” he said; “my father was one of the first to take up land about here. When a young man, hunting was my passion. I made friends with the wild Bushmen who then dwelt on the mountain, and they used to drive the game for me. I built a hut near the spring just below the summit, and there I sometimes stayed for weeks together.
“I was proud of my eyesight and my skill with the rifle. I did not care for the society of others; I neglected my wife and children; I neither feared God nor regarded man. The mountain I looked upon as my home. Living so near the sky makes one different to others. The sins of the Flesh lose their breath and cannot climb so high, but those of the Spirit beset you sorely. You will remember that Satan tempted the Lord on the top of a high mountain.