Outa Karel's Stories: South African Folk-Lore Tales

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ush, sheep-kraals, and smoke from the Kafir huts-none, perhaps, desirable in itself, but all so blent and purified in that rare, clear atmosphere, and so subservient to the exhilarating freshness, that Pietie van der Merwe took several sniffs of pleasure as he

large grey eyes gazing wistfully into the red heart of the fire, while

her book; for, winter or summer, the mistress of a karroo farm leads a

o part of his day's work. Only the healthy tan, the broad shoulders, the whole well-developed physique proclaimed his strenuous, open-air life. His eye rested with pleasure on the scene before him-the bright fire, throwing gleam and shadow on pain

children. Little Jan slowly withdrew his gaze from the fire, and, with more energy than might have been expected fr

go and call Outa Karel?" he asked eagerly, an

he firelight. A stranger might have been forgiven for fleeing in terror, for the new arrival looked like no

arments fashioned from wildcat and dassie skins; a faded brown coat, which from its size had evidently once belonged to his master, hung nearly to his knees; while, when he removed his shapeless felt hat, a

ark and beady like the little wicked eyes of a snake peeping from the shadow of a hole in the rocks. His wide mouth twisted itself into an engaging grin, which extended

it was something to be remembered-the grotesque, disproportionate form; the ape-like face, that yet was so curiously human; the humour and kindness that gleamed from the cavernous eyes, which seemed de

while, above everything, was the feeling that here was one of an outcast race, one of the few of the original inhabitants who had survived the submerging tide of civilization; who, knowing no law but that of possession, had been scared and chased from their happy hunting grounds, first by the Hottentots, then by the powerful Bantu, and later by the still more terrifying palefaced tribes from over the seas. Tho

, for, though he always spoke of himself as wholly Bushman, there was a s

oice belonging to these people, just now honey-s

but his knees are too stiff. Thank you, thank you, my baasje," as Pietie dragged a low stool, covered with springbok skin, from under the desk in th

ustbank near the wall, little Jan next her with his head against her, and Torry's head o

e, or peep over to see how her book was getting on. Willem had pushed the basket away so as to settle himself more comf

d served so faithfully for three generations. The firelight played over his quaint figure with the weirdest effect, lighting up now one portion of it, now another, showing up his aston

ad ended, and, in the interval between the coming of darkness and the

insects that exercised marvellous influence over the destinies of unsuspecting mankind. But most thrilling of all, perhaps, were Outa Karel'

n from book or writing, would feel a tremor of excitement, unable to determine where reality ended and

e Jan, nestling closer to Cousin Minnie, and issuing his command a

only the old ones of Jakhals and Leeuw, and how can he tell even tho

en suddenly he started with well-feigned surprise and beamed on Pietie,

to call attention to the fact of its not having been offered. Sore throat, headache, stomach-ache, cold, heat, rheumatism, old age, a birthday (inve

he glass, gulped down the contents, and smacked his lips approvingly. "Ach! if a Bushman only had a neck like an ostrich! How g

rying Jakhals on his

his is quite a

ing every action and changing his voice to s