rival. You could die of thirst and not one of them would spit on you, lest it gave you strength to crawl out and peg something they hadn't noticed. He sobered We're wasting time. There's an hour left before dark, let's go and have a look for ourselves They trotted out towards the area of mauled earth. Men were working pick and shovel in the trenches, some of them lean and tough-looking with a dozen natives working beside them; others fat from an office stool, sweating and gritting teeth against the pain of blistered palms, their faces and arms burnt angry red by the sun. All of them greeted Sean and Duff with the same suspicious hostility.
They rode slowly towards the north and every hundred yards with sickening regularity they came across a claim peg with a cairn of stones around its foot and the scrap of canvas nailed to it. Printed in crude capitals on the canvas was the owner's name and his licence number.
Many of the claims were as yet untouched and on these Duff dismounted and searched in the grass, picking up pieces of rock and peering at them before discarding them again. Then once more they moved on with sinking spirits and increasing exhaustion. They camped after dark on the open windy ridge and while the coffee brewed they talked.
We're too late. Sean scowled into the fire.
We've got money, laddie, just remember that. Most of these gentlemen are broke, they are living on hope, not beef and potatoes. Look at their faces and you'll see despair starting to show. It takes capital to work reef gold: you need machinery and money for wages, you have to pipe in water and pile rock, you need wagons and time. Money's no good without a claim to work, brooded Sean.
Stay with me, laddie. Have you noticed how many of these claims haven't been touched yet? They belong to speculators and my guess is that they are for sale. In the next few weeks you'll see the men sorted out from the boys! feel like packing up. This isn't what I expected. You're tired. Sleep well tonight and tomorrow we'll see how far this reef runs, then we'll start some scheming.
Duff lit one of his cheroots, and sucked on it: in the firelight his face was as punt as a Red Indian's. They sat on in silence for a while, then Sean spoke.
What's that noise? It was a dull torn-torn beat in the darkness. You'll get used to that if you stay around here much longer, said Duff. It's the stamps on that mill we saw from the high ground. It's a mile or so farther up the valley; we'll pass it in the morning.
They were on the move again before the sun was up and they came to the mill in the morning's uncertain light. The mill crouched black and ugly on the smooth curve of the ridge, defiant as a quixotic monster. Its jaws thumped sullenly as it chewed the rock; it snorted steam and screeched metallically.
I didn't realize it was so big, said Sean. It's big all right, agreed Duff, and they cost money, they don't give them away. Not many men around here can afford a set-up like that. There were men moving around the mill, tending its needs, feeding it rock and fussing about the copper tables over which its gold-laden faeces poured. One of the men came forward to offer them the usual hospitality. This is private ground. We don't want sightseers around here keep on going. He was a dapper little man with a round brown face and a derby hat pulled down to his ears. His mustache bristled like the whiskers of a fox terrier. Listen, Francois, you miserable bloody earthworm, if you talk to me like that I'll push your face around the back of your head, Duff told him, and the dapper one blinked uncertainly and came closer, peering up at them.
Who are you? Do I know you?
Duff pushed his hat back so the man could see his face. Duff! crowed the little man delightedly. It's old Duff. He bounced forward to take Duff's hand as he dismounted. Sean watched the orgy of reunion with amusement. It lasted until Duff managed to bring it under control and lead the little Afrikander across to make the introduction.
Sean, this is Francois du Toit. He's an old friend of mine from the Kimberley diamond fields. Francois greeted Sean and then relapsed once more into the excited chorus of Gott, it's good to see you old Duff.
He pounded Duff's back despite the nimble footwork that Duff was using to spoil his aim. Another few minutes of this passed before Francois composed himself to make his first coherent statement.
Listen, old Duff, I'm just in the middle of cleaning the amalgam tables. you and your friend go down to my tent.
I'll be with you in half an hour, tell my servant to make breakfast. I won't be long, man. Gott, man, it's you some good to see you.
An old lover of yours? asked Sean when they were alone.
Duff laughed. We were on the diamond fields together.
I did him a favour once, Pulled him Out Of a caving drive when the rock fall had broken his legs- He's a good little guy and meeting him here is the proverbial answer to a prayer. What he can't tell us about this goldfield no one else can. Francois came bustling into the tent well under the promised half hour and during breakfast Sean was an outsider in a conversation where every exchange began, you remember -? or what happened to old so and so?
Then, when the plates were empty and the coffee mugs filled, Duff asked, so, what are you doing here, Franz? Is this your own outfit? No, I'm still with the Company. Not that whoreson Hradsky? Duff registered mock alarm. That, that that's ta, to, terrible, he imitated a stutter. Cut it out, Duff. Francois looked nervous. Don't do that, you want me to lose my job? Duff turned to Sean with an explanation-'Norman Hradsky and God are equals, but in this part of the world God takes his orders from Hradsky.
Cut it out, Duff. Francois was deeply shocked but Duff went on imperturbably.The organization through which Hradsky exercises his divine powers is referred to with reverently hated breath as 'The Company'. In actual fact its full and resounding title is The South African Mining and Lands Company.
Do you get the picture? Sean nodded smiling and Duff added as an afterthought, Hradsky is a bastard and he stutters.It was too much for Francois. He leaned across and caught Duff's arm. Please, man. My servant understands English, cut it out, Duff. So the Company has started on these fields, hey? Well, well, it must be pretty big, mused Duff and Francois followed with relief onto safer ground. It is! You just wait and see, it's going to make the diamond fields look like a church bazaar!
Tell me about it, said Duff.They call it the Rotten Reef or the Banket or the Heidelberg Reef, but in fact there are three reefs, not one. They run side by side like layers in a sandwich cake. All three have pay gold? Duff shot the question and Francois shook his head. There was a light in his eyes; he was happy talking gold and No, you can forget about the outer reef, just traces there. Then there's the Main Reef. That's a bit better, it's as much as six feet thick in places and giving good values, but it's patchy. Francois leaned eagerly across the table; in his excitement his thick Afrikaans accent was very noticeable.The bottom reef is the winner, we call it the Leader Reef. It's only a few inches thick and some places it fades out altogether, but it's rich. There's gold in it like plums in a pudding. It's rich, Duff, I'm telling you that you won't believe it until you see itV 'I'll believe you, said Duff. Now tell me where I can get some of this Leader Reef for myself. Francois sobered instantly, a shutter dropped over his eyes and hid the light that had shone there a moment before. It's gone. It's all gone, he said defensively. It's all been pegged, you've come too late. Well, that's that, said Duff and a big silence settled on the gathering. Francois fidgeted on his stool, chewing at the ends of his mustache and scowling into his mug.
Duff and Sean waited quietly; it was obvious that Francois was wrestling with himself, two loyalties tearing him down the middle. Once he opened his mouth and then closed it again; he blew on his coffee to cool it and the heat came off it in steam.Have you got any money? He fired the question with startling violence.
Yes, said Duff. Mr Hradsky has gone down to Capetown to raise money. He has a list of a hundred and forty claims that he will buy when he gets back. Francois paused guiltily. I'm only telling you this because of what I owe you. Yes, I know! Duff spoke softly. Francois took an audible breath and went on. On the top of Mr Hradsky's list is a block of claims that belongs to a woman. She is willing to sell and they are the most likely-looking propositions on the whole field. Yes? Duff encouraged him. This woman has started an eating-house about two miles from here on the banks of the Natal Spruit. Her name is Mrs Rautenbach, she serves good food. You could go and have a meal there. Thanks, Francois. I owed it to you, Francois said gruffly, then his mood changed quickly and he chuckled. You'll like her, Duff, she's a lot of woman.
Sean and Duff went to eat lunch at Mrs Rautenbach's.
It was an unpainted corrugated-iron building on a wooden frame and the sign above the veranda said in letters of red and gold Candy's Hotel. High-class cuisine. Free toilet facilities. No drunks or horses admitted. Proprietor Mrs Candella Rautenbach.They washed off the dust in the enamel basin which stood on the veranda, dried themselves on the free towel and combed in the free mirror on the wall.
How do I look! asked Duff.
Ravishing, said Sean, but you don't smell so good.
When did you last bath? They went into the dining-room and found it almost full, but there was an empty table against the far wall.
The room was hot and thick with pipe smoke and the smell of cabbage. Dusty, bearded men laughed and shouted or ate silently and hungrily. They crossed the room to the table and a coloured waitress came to them.
Yes?
