stretches.
But that had been built and used for years, and I.D.B. people don't
drag down quite such long sentences any more; it was obviously not what
Mr. Van der Westhuizen meant. I decided to wait and not interrupt him.
He was still talking about digging.
"It's
a good, healthy life, as you'll see for yourself," he said, "and
there's always a chance of making a find. That's the exciting thing
about digging; there's always a chance. Remember the Jonker diamond?
That was found by a digger."
We
were approaching a strange setup near the road; in fact, it was so near
that it would have stood in our way if we had gone straight ahead. The
road obligingly deflected, however, and swung around it in a wide
detour.
"That's
the way it is in the fields," said Mr. Van der Westhuizen, stopping
the car where the road started to turn. "You turn around a minute and
take your eye off the path you came in by, and ten to one you find a
ditch there when you start back."
We
got out and stepped over various piles of rubble, and made our way to
the edge of a pit in the bare red earth. Three natives were busily
employed in it, digging deeper with a small mechanical shovel, swinging
it around by hand and cranking the arm. As the shovel's jaws bit into
the ground it encountered a boulder too large to shift. Shouting at
each other, the men stopped cranking and began to wrestle bodily with
the rock. It all seemed to go rather slowly and inefficiently in the
baking sun, and I looked with mild wonder at a great heap of similar
boulders that had been piled up around the diggings. The excavation
was already six or seven feet deep and clearly represented a vast
amount of toil.