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Updated: June 26, 2025
Into this, Jim deliberately, and with an aim so sure that not a drop was lost, squirted about half the tot. Kalaza thereupon wagged his tongue, rolled the liquor round ins gums, and then swallowed it slowly. At the door of the canteen they parted. "Good-bye, son of my father," said Kalaza. "Yes, my friend," replied Jim, and walked away slowly towards the police camp.
Kalaza again pondered, his beady eyes twinkling incessantly. "Do you ever employ detectives now?" he asked. "Oh, yes," said Jim lightly, "we do so now and then. But he that is hired must prove that duty has been done before he gets paid." "How so?" "By making some one guilty, and causing him to be sentenced by the magistrate. When he has done this, the detective gets fifteen shillings.
He does not know Kalaza, the only Fingo his father Zangalele ever made a friend of. He does not know the man who used to cut sticks for him when he was a little boy." "Sit down, Kalaza," replied Maliwe, "I meant no offence. I do not remember you, but if you were my father's friend, you are mine."
Kalaza shouldered his stick and went off quickly in the direction of the native location. Maliwe drove home his flock at sunset, and penned them safely in the kraal, which was constructed of heavy thorn bushes. The old kapater goat, which acted as bellwether of the flock, strode proudly into the enclosure, well ahead of the others, and took his station on a rock which rose up in the middle.
"Have you not got a little meat?" Maliwe stood up, and reaching to the roof of the hut, handed down the emaciated ribs of the goat. Kalaza took the meat, turned it over critically, and handed it back. "That is the meat of an old, tough goat," he said, "I could no more chew that than the mealies." "I am very sorry," replied Maliwe, "but I have none other."
Some people on horseback had just reached the hut, and one dismounted and looked in. He recognized them all. There was his master, Gert Botha, on his old grey mare; there was the European sergeant, of the Cape Police; there was private Jim Gubo of the same force, and there was Kalaza, the "friend of his father" and his guest of the previous night.
"Just as you say, when he was young," rejoined Kalaza. "And are you, then, old? I wonder does old Dalisile know what a coward he is giving his daughter to. In the good old days he would have sent you to show that you could steal like a man a young man before you got your wife. But it does not matter, I shall not die tonight, although I am old."
Here again chance favoured the tempter. The one dread of Maliwe's life was the rivalry of a rich suitor. Maliwe bent his head over his knees, and remained in this posture for a few minutes. He then stood up suddenly and strode out of the hut. Just afterwards a sound as of sheep rushing about might have been heard coming from the direction of the kraal. Kalaza heard it, and smiled.
THIS is how it all happened. They met at the canteen on Monday morning at eight o'clock Jim Gubo, the policeman, and Kalaza, who had just been released from the convict station where, for five long years, he had been expiating a particularly cruel assault with violence upon a woman.
At this Kalaza sighed, said he was an old man, and he supposed times had changed since he was young, but in his day no old man would be so treated by the son of his best friend. Maliwe remained silent for some time, and then said politely that he was a servant, and had to be content with what food his master gave him.
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