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Schreiner, Olive, 1855-1920

"The Story of an African Farm, a novel"

I was stiff and cold; and my master, who lay by me, offered me
his flask, because mine was empty. I drank some, and then I thought I
would go and see if the river was going down. I remember that I walked to
the road, and it seemed to be going away from me. When I woke up I was
lying by a little bush on the bank of the river. It was afternoon; all the
clouds had gone, and the sky was deep blue. The Bushman boy was grilling
ribs at the fire. He looked at me and grinned from ear to ear. 'Master
was a little nice,' he said, 'and lay down in the road. Something might
ride over master, so I carried him there.' He grinned at me again. It was
as though he said, 'You and I are comrades. I have lain in a road, too. I
know all about it.'
"When I turned my head from him I saw the earth, so pure after the rain, so
green, so fresh, so blue; and I was a drunken carrier, whom his leader had
picked up in the mud, and laid at the roadside to sleep out his drink. I
remember my old life, and I remember you. I saw how, one day, you would
read in the papers: 'A German carrier, named Waldo Farber, was killed
through falling from his wagon, being instantly crushed under the wheel.
Deceased was supposed to have been drunk at the time of the accident.'
There are those notices in the paper every month. I sat up, and I took the
brandy-flask out of my pocket, and I flung it as far as I could into the
dark water.


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