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Speared?" asked Stobart. The native looked round stealthily as if afraid of being heard. Then he lowered his voice and whispered: "Neh. Nantu no bin speared. Throat bin cut this way." He poked his finger into his neck at the side of the gullet and made a cutting movement. There was only one man in the tribe who would have done the killing in that way, and Stobart asked: "Doctor-man, eh?"
But familiarity with that particular poem enabled me on the following day to pass the Sanskrit examination. Through the discerning help Nantu had given, I also attained the minimum grade for success in all my other subjects. Father was pleased that I had kept my word and concluded my secondary school course.
The blacks had certainly made a thorough work of their first slaughter, but surely they had not killed the two horses which had been let go since friendly relations were established. He looked so perplexed that the boy started to explain. "Nantu killed aller same cattle," he said. "Yes, but what about Billy and Ginger?" asked the white man. "Dead," said Yarloo emphatically. "Me bin see um." "How?
A classmate accosted me one afternoon on Gurpar Road. "Hello, Nantu! My invisibility at school has actually placed me there in a decidedly awkward position." I unburdened myself under his friendly gaze. Nantu, who was a brilliant student, laughed heartily; my predicament was not without a comic aspect. "You are utterly unprepared for the finals! I suppose it is up to me to help you!"
My gratitude sped to the Lord, whose sole guidance I perceived in my visit to Nantu and my walk by the unhabitual route of the debris-filled lot. Playfully He had given a dual expression to His timely design for my rescue. I came across the discarded book whose author had denied God precedence in the examination halls.
It was nearly noon when the boy returned, and the expression on his face clearly indicated disaster. "Nantu dead," he announced sorrowfully. "Dead?" exclaimed Stobart. "What, all of them?" "Yah. All about." The drover was too much amazed to ask any more questions for a time.
Bursting with unseasoned erudition, I devoutly prayed it would remain for the next few critical days. Nantu had coached me in my various subjects but, under press of time, had forgotten my course in Sanskrit. Fervently I reminded God of the oversight. I set out on a short walk the next morning, assimilating my new knowledge to the rhythm of swinging footsteps.
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