“Very true,” said the Major; “then we must make Swinton entertain us by telling us more about the lions, for he had not finished when the storm came on.”

“No,” replied Swinton; “I had a great deal more to say, and I shall be very happy at any seasonable time, Major, to tell you what I know—­but not just now.”

“My dear fellow,” said the Major, putting another piece of elephant-steak upon Swinton’s plate, “pray don’t entertain the idea that I want you to talk on purpose that I may eat your share and my own too; only ascribe my impatience to the true cause—­the delight I have in receiving instruction and amusement from you.”

“Well, Swinton, you have extorted a compliment from the Major.”

“Yes, and an extra allowance of steak, which is a better thing,” replied Swinton, laughing.  “Now I have finished my breakfast, I will tell what I know about Omrah’s people.

“The Bushmen are originally a Hottentot race—­of that I think there is little doubt; but I believe they are a race of people produced by circumstances, if I may use the expression.  The Hottentot on the plains lives a nomad life, pasturing and living upon his herds.  The Bushman may be considered as the Hottentot driven out of his fertile plains, deprived of his cattle, and compelled to resort to the hills for his safety and subsistence—­in short, a Hill Hottentot:  impelled by hunger and by injuries, he has committed depredations upon the property of others until he has had a mark set upon him; his hand has been against every man, and he has been hunted like a wild beast, and compelled to hide himself in the caves of almost inaccessible rocks and hills.

“Thus, generation after generation, he has suffered privation and hunger, till the race has dwindled down to the small size which it is at present.  Unable to contend against force, his only weapons have been his cunning and his poisoned arrows, and with them he has obtained his livelihood—­or rather, it may be said, has contrived to support life, and no more.  There are, however, many races mixed up with the Bushmen; for runaway slaves, brought from Madagascar, Malays, and even those of the mixed white breed, when they have committed murder or other penal crimes, have added to the race and incorporated themselves with them; they are called the Children of the Desert, and they are literally such.”

“Have you seen much of them?”

“Yes, when I was in the Namaqua-land and in the Bechuana territory I saw a great deal of them.  I do not think that they are insensible to kindness, and moreover, I believe that they may often be trusted; but you run a great risk.”

“Have they ever shown any gratitude?”

“Yes; when I have killed game for them, they have followed me on purpose to show me the pools of waters without which we should have suffered severely, if we had not perished.  We were talking about lions; it is an old-received opinion, that the jackal is the lion’s provider; it would be a more correct one to say that the lion is the Bushman’s provider.”