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The Bushman tribes of hill Hottentots, if we may so term them, have also been increased by various means, notwithstanding the constant massacres of these unhappy people by the Dutch boors; moreover, we have by our injudicious colonial regulations added another and a new race of people, who are already considerable in their numbers." "Which do you refer to?"
While casting about to find it in a place where the bush was thin and straggling, Swartboy suddenly ran off to one side, calling to the others to follow him. Von Bloom and Hendrik went after to see what the Bushman was about. They thought he had seen an elephant, and both, considerably excited, had already pulled the covers off their guns. There was no elephant, however.
The tall, broad, independent figure of the bushman with his easy gentlemanliness, his jockey costume enhancing his size. The equally tall majestic form of the city belle, whose self-confident fashionable style spoke of nothing appertaining to girlhood, but of the full-blown rose indeed, a splendid pair physically!
To answer this gave no great trouble to the Bushman. He would drop from his horse, and bending over the ground, would reply in an instant. In every case the answer was in the affirmative. The animals had certainly gone back to their old home. Von Bloom believed they would be sure to find them there, but should they find them alive? That was the question that rendered him anxious.
They were poisoned like rats, killed by hunters lying in ambush before the carcass of some animal, killed wherever met with. So that our knowledge of the Bushmen, being chiefly borrowed from those same people who exterminated them, is necessarily limited. Lichtenstein has a most touching story about a Bushman, nearly drowned in a river, who was rescued by his companions.
He stood, as he realized instinctively, in the shadow with a great trunk behind him, and remained so, motionless, with his blood tingling, because the bushman knows the difficulty of catching the outline of anything that is still. Then there was a soft snapping, and the glint became visible, in another place, again, while Alton saw that he was not mistaken.
Abdul Jemalee, the Malay slave, was there; also Booby the Bushman the former grave and silent, almost sad; the latter conducting himself like a monkey to which animal he seemed closely related and evoking shouts of laughter from a few youths, for whose special benefit he kept in the background and mimicked every one else.
He had also the primitive view of life, and the morals of a race who, in the clash of East and West, set against Western character and directness, and loyalty to the terms of a bargain, the demoralised cunning of the desert folk; the circuitous tactics of those who believed that no man spoke the truth directly, that it must ever be found beneath devious and misleading words, to be tracked like a panther, as an Antipodean bushman once said, "through the sinuosities of the underbrush."
My prosperity's recent." Nasmyth still looked curious, and Lisle smiled. "I can guess your thoughts I don't speak altogether like a bushman? Well, my father was an Englishman, and my mother a lady of education from Montreal; that was why, at the cost of some self-denial on their part, I was sent East to school." It was an incomplete explanation.
Leaving the myths which turn on the breaking of a taboo, and reserving for consideration the New Zealand story, in which the Origin of Death is the neglect of a ritual process, let us look at some African myths of the Origin of Death. The Bushman story lacks the beginning. The mother of the little Hare was lying dead, but we do not know how she came to die.
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