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Ch. 9: The Moving Men

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THE MOVING MEN
269
To the restless spirit and purely speculative mind of Barnett Isaacs there was magnetic attraction in such a field with its novel and gleaming opportunities. With instant decision he took the steamer for Cape Town, and made the tiresome trip over veld and karoo to Kimberley with unfailing pluck and good temper.
He was only twenty years old, and outwardly no more than a light-hearted boy, bubbling over with high spirits and comical conceits. But his fondness for athletic sports, theatrical extrava­ganzas, and practical jokes, and his contempt for conventional restraints, were merely the surface froth covering invincible energy and facile grasp of opportunities. He had an unshak­able self-reliance, a quick perception, and a fertile resourceful­ness that bore him up when feebler men sank. One could scarcely cast him in any society or any place on earth, where his nimble wits would not win him a living.
The impulse to go ahead was in his blood. " It has always been a superstition with me," he said, " never to turn back." He grew apace with the calls upon his powers. He did not pro­fess to know more than he knew, but he was never content to know anything that interested him by report. " I must look into everything that concerns me for myself." This determina­tion was a safeguard. He once boasted, in a rare fit of parade, that he had never made a mistake in his investment of money in his life. But his incessant activity was fatally wearing. He could not dawdle. He could hardly rest. For many years his extraordinary vitality and endurance kept him running. He had the precious faculty of dropping off to sleep at any moment of relaxation, and awaking after slumbering for a few moments. Nevertheless no creature of flesh and blood could endure the strain which he bore and recklessly courted. " Some day such a bundle of quivering nerves must snap, either life or brain must go," said one of his closest friends. But when young Barnett Isaacs wandered into Dutoitspan, "fit for anything," as he him­self declared, after his long tramp and meals of porridge and biltong, nobody saw in him the raw material of one of the
Ch. 9: The  Moving  Men Page of 449 Ch. 9: The  Moving  Men
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