lowing the Ng'habe," (giraffe),
"and so came on this way, knowing I should meet you. How goes life with
you?"

"There is no news," returned Nakeesa. "I heard some lies only from the
Bakalahari at Bachukuru fountain. Khama's men are hunting in Mababi.
As for me and my babe, we starve. Sinikwe has done no hunting till
yesterday for moons past. Better had it been if thou hadst been my man,
Kwaneet!"

"Come with me now, Nakeesa," replied Kwaneet. "I will find thee meat.
We will go far," (pointing north) "and defy Sinikwe."

"Nay, I dare not," answered Nakeesa. "Sinikwe 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 its pleasures quite decided 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 I
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 water. 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. Bushmen are not a
demonstrative folk, and there was little fuss on leave-taking.

Not a little cheered by the meeting with Kwaneet, Nakeesa held steadily
on her course till sundown, and for the second night slept upon the
spoor of her husband and the now dying giraffe. Again with the earliest
streaks of light she rose and pursued her journey. Her babe was very
fretful. She herself yearned for the end of the travel; even for a
Bushwoman ground nuts are but poor sustenance for a three days' foot
journey, under a heavy load, and smitten by a parching sun. Only the
immense vitality and the silent capacity for endurance characteristic of
these desert-bred Masarwas sustained her. In the early cool of this
fair African morning Nakeesa passed through tracts of leguminous bush,
decked in a bravery of lilac-coloured blossom. As she emerged upon a
broad opening, a troop of noble gemsbo