CHAPTER XII BRYDONE’S DIAMONDS--THE GREAT FALLS OF THE ORANGE--MOUTH OF THE MOLOPO--BAK RIVER--THE GERMAN SOUTH-WEST BORDER--KAKAMAS--LITTLE BUSHMAN LAND. In Cape Town I found a most encouraging budget of news awaiting me from my energetic friend in Upington. Ever since my return from Rietfontein through that unsophisticated village (?) he had been collecting and collating every scrap of intelligence he could gather relating to the old legend of a rich diamond-mine in the Noup Hills, below the Great Falls of the Orange, and which for shortness I shall refer to as “Brydone’s diamonds”; and he had come to the conclusion that not only did the spot exist, but that he had sufficient data to enable him to proceed directly to it. The only doubt he expressed was whether the spot would be found to be on British or German territory, for everything pointed to its being just about where the twentieth degree of east longitude formed the boundary between the two. Probably, had I been critical, I should have discovered that a good many of his deductions were far from logical; but his glowing accounts tallied greatly with my own belief and with the vague stories I had heard from both natives and whites, and any little hesitation I felt was finally disposed of by still another urgent letter and some wires conveying the satisfactory news that a guide had been found who could take us to the actual spot. That settled it, and I immediately set about looking for a partner, and soon found a most satisfactory one in the person of a German named Paul, who had been a most successful diamond-digger at Harrisdale and Bloemhof, and who wanted a few more. In addition to his expert qualification as a digger, I felt that I had been lucky in striking this man, for he told me, as soon as I broached the subject to him, that he had heard of this spot whilst in German West, and had even made an attempt to reach it, but had been prevented by the authorities. Here then, apparently, was additional proof that this Golconda existed; a bargain was struck, and we were soon on our way to Upington. Except for the fact that, during a bitterly cold night in a Cape cart on the veldt between Prieska and our destination, I contracted pneumonia, we reached our enthusiastic partner in safety, and after a few days’ annoying delay, during which I coughed and fumed and fretted and feared that someone would forestall us, we started off in the most overcrowded Cape cart I have ever squeezed into. Paul was a big, hefty chap; de Wet, our guide, at least a six-footer; Smidt, the driver, bigger still; and Borcherds, the “cheerful optimist,” weighed about as much as any two of them put together. We had reduced stores to a minimum, expecting to shoot for the pot; tools also were but few; for were we not to be led straight to the spot where we could pick the diamonds up? But even so, there were certain essentials: guns, a pick and shovel, a water-cask, emergency rations, sleeping-gear, etc.; and