The daily morning journal and courier., 1895-12-04

But Nakeesa knows what she is about, To the end of hollow reed she has fas- tened tuft of grass, This she inserts Into the damp hole, which she scoops from the sand, Then she kneads sand round the base of her rude pump, and over the tuft of grass, and sucks. Lit tie by little the water, thus collected, reaches and fills her mouth, from which 1 1t is discharged, by means of thick stalk of desert grass, into an ostrich shell. It Is hard work and slow, but in two hours Nakeesa has filled her three remaining ostrich shells, These and some others, the holes of which are all carefully sealed with grass, she bestows in rude net of fibre.
 ' With this load, together with cala- bash of water, her babe, her larder and household gear Ghe bulbs, a steinbok skin, and the tortoise shelD, she sets off on her way towards that banquet of giraffe flesh for which her soul now pines. It is a long, long journey, but she has no trouble whatever in follow ing Sinikwe's spoor. She traces 1t to the spot where the Masarwa set off upon the tracks of the wounded COW, and then, mile after mile through the desert, she deciphers easily the familiar tale that slowly the earth unfolds to her. The giraffe is strong and lusty, and the poison takes long to do it's work upon so huge frame.
 1 Naaeesa tolls on doggedly with her load She sleeps the first night (she started in the afternoon) in belt of Mopani forest. At earliest dawn, as soon as she can see spoor, she is away again, steadily trudging, It is weary work. The white glare of the sun upon the light calcareous sand, through which she ploughs all the morning, Is trying enough; yet infinitely more dis dressing is it when she crosses the four miles of a vast salt pan. The blinding glare thrown up from the fiat white surface of the pan makes even the sea- soned eyes of a Bushwoman throb and smart, and the heat is terrible.
 There is a gleam of satisfaction even upon the salt pan, however. Nakeesa sees plainly enough by the spoor that the giraffe COW is in sore trouble. Here she has reeled there spurned the smooth white sand as she starts off again at speed, galled into frenzy by the poison that now runs riot through her veins. And ever, like the blood hound upon trail, run the footprints of Sinikwe side by side with the giraffe spoor. Nakeesa sees that he has put on his hide sandals, so burning is the gilt tering white sand. So plain Is the tale to her eyes, that Nakeesa knows now, surely enough, that tomorrow by noon she will rest by the dead carcass.
 In the hottest hour of afternoon, as she mounts with sense of relief the further edge of the great salt pan, Ma | keesa sees a figure coming towards her Who can it be? Not Sinikwe, certainly. In five minutes her old lover, kWaneet stands before her. They squat them down beneath a solitary Mopanl tree whose bifid, butterfy-like leaves noW parched and shrivelled), turned ever edge-wise to the sun, and afforded them the scantest shade, and exchange greet ing. Kaneet takes little-a very little I of the precious snuff from the cart ridge-case at his neck, and offers ms friend a pinch from the palm ot ms I hand. With gratitude almost toe great for words Nakeesa takes and en- joys the precious stuff. What a relief ] No dainty cup of afternoon tea was ever so gratefu, to fashionable dame as that pinch of snuff to the weary Masar- wa woman. Her eyes sparkle little she plucks up energy again,
 50, Kwaneet!" she says. Have you had water Whence come you?"
 "There is,no water" replies the Ma sarwa. q am eaten up by the sun Two mornings agone I drank little. go to Mazwa, where there may be yet a little. And I shall tlere hunt for harte- ! beest skins against the coming of kha- mas head-men. What news have you 1 Nakeesa? I saw he print of Sinikwe's sandal wonder, following the Ng'hahe" I (girafee), and so came on this way, i knowing I should meet you. How goes life with you?"
 There is no news,' returned Nakee- ] sa. q heard some lies only from the I Bakalahari at Bachukuru fountain I Khana's men are hunting in Mababi As for me and my babe, we starve. 1 Sinikwe has done no hunting till yes terday for moons past. Better had Il been if thou hadst been my man, Kwa- meet"
 Come with me now, Nakeesa," re- piled Kwaneet T will find thee meat. We will go far" pointing north) and defy Sinlkwee" Nay, I dare not" answered Nakeesa. "Sinikwee would follow and slay us in our sleep. I dare not. Be patient. Something may happen. Our life is short and has | many dangers"
 During this interview Nakeesa had been turning over something in her mind. The snuff and it's pleasures quite deciued her. She took an ostrich eggshell from her burden, cleared the orifice of grass, and offered water to Kwaneet. The Masarwa drank half the contents of the shell then returned it to Nakeesa.
 Thanks for the drink; the water is good. But what will Sinikwe say?"
 "Oh, that is nothing" returned the woman. ''I spilled the water, did l not ? and Sinikwe must do his worst. If he returns this way, he will know who had it I cannot help it. You are my friend-and far more"
 Nakeesa knew there would be trouble about the wa ter. She herself had had but one sip since she started. She dared to take no more. But she knew her risk, and cheerfully accepted it. for Kwaneet's sake. In ten minutes they parted and went their ways. | 5 +s fzJJ