in
the past, nor embedded in the blue ground, or kimberlite, that formed
the matrix of the crater mines. They lay scattered in the sand, on the
surface of the dunes; they tended to hide in little petrified wavelets,
hard little ridges of sand. Wind had sorted them out, carrying off
light grains, leaving heavier particles of sand, and diamonds,
behind—though sometimes the wind grew strong enough to carry off
diamonds and all. The diggers crawled after this stuff on hands and
knees and picked out the crystals delicately, on the points of their
knives. Cornell had done most sorts of mining in his time, but this was
new to him, and he was both diverted and disgusted by what seemed to
him the slendemess of the pickings. Anyway, everybody else seemed to
have got there ahead of him, and he saw no chance of pegging a good
claim. He felt sure that these tiny grains indicated the presence
somewhere, not too far away, of bigger diamonds. Surely these gem
stones had been water-sorted before they were wind-sorted; the
associated gravel proved that. So, where had they all come from in the
first place, before the water carried them out of the matrix? He
thought there was probably a pipe of diamond-bearing blue ground
nearby, either inland in the bare, rocky mountains, or under the sea.
There
were probably long colloquies on these questions between diggers of an
evening, during which Cornell heard about the Bushman's paradise and
became convinced that there was something in the story. He gathered
more of the legend: he felt he had circumstantial evidence now to prove
it. The place must exist, otherwise how explain the story of
the German soldier? This man, according to the tale, had got lost in
the wasteland behind the coast and was given up for dead. Months later
he was found, a corpse to be sure, but a corpse only recently, slain
