The old Bushman who had been my guide knew this district well; in the past he had hunted ostriches there with the bow and poisoned arrow, bringing the feathers in to the rare trading waggons to exchange for tobacco and the like, and he asserted that Bushmen still wandered there, independent of water and living on the _tsamma_ (or wild melon) in lieu thereof. “Bright stones,” yes, some of the “pans” were full of them, and he also had heard that men had obtained many head of oxen and five waggons for these! But which “pans” they came from he could not say; there were many, many of such places. Yes, he knew pans where the soil was _blaauw_ (blue) and crumbled in the hand, and where the _rooi blink klippers_ (bright red stones--garnets) lay by the shovelful, and green stones too. Would he be able to take me to these places? Yes! and to where there was a “fontein” of good water too, but the police would put him in _tronk_ if he went there; no one was there but _schelm_ Bushmen, cattle thieves. All of which made me more anxious than ever to explore this forbidden stretch of country, and on our way back I took every opportunity that offered to question both natives and farmers as to whether diamonds had ever been found there, and found that the belief that mines existed there was universal. Few of the farmers cared to acknowledge that they had ever been more than a mile or two into the Reserve (and then always after “strayed cattle”); but as a matter of fact a great deal of poaching is carried on by these dwellers on the border, and many a waggon of gemsbok biltong finds a way to dodge the rare patrols of the few police.