He smiled and walked off down the road with his leather box. We climbed back into the car. "He won't
ever go to the poorhouse, no matter how he talks," said Mr. Van der
Westhuizen. Possibly realizing that he sounded a bit resentful, he
added, "But he's a very good man, you know. He never smokes or drinks,
he's very steady, he takes a lot of interest in this town. He was born
and brought up here. The church there, you see how well built it is.
Good Afrikaners are supposed to give a tenth of their income every year
to the church; you people call it the tithe, don't you? Well, that man,
he never misses out on his tithe. I expect he's paid for most of that
new church out of his own pocket." He sighed and looked around at the
red earth. "It's a funny thing to think this is all diamondiferous," he
said. "You might find a diamond anywhere. Oh well, not everybody's
lucky. I did right, quitting when I did. Yes, I did right-Next
day—Friday—I arrived a little later at Nooitgedacht. This time I went
out with the valuer and purchaser, that same Mr. Cohen whose enamel
sign I had seen on the company office door. We found Mr. Van der
Westhuizen and his companion already there, and water for tea was
boiling on the stove. Mr. Cohen had a pleasant manner and I recalled
what I had been told about him; that he had a reputation for giving
fair prices to the diggers and was a great relief after some of the
people they had had to deal with in the past. It is important to
diggers to have a good buyer on the grounds, for though they have the
privilege of selling their stones elsewhere, most of them find it
simpler in the end—and often necessary—to cash in then and there, on
the spot.
