something wicked planned, and he took with him two very important fly whisks that were good for all sorts of tasks.
They reached the cattle post and Diepetsana saw that there was no sign of his brother. That night he slept in a hut, but before he lay down he set up the fly whisks so that they would see if anybody came in at night. One was placed at the foot of his sleeping mat and another at the top.
In the depths of the night the fly whisk at the top of the sleeping mat sang out: “Who is this entering?”
And the reply came from the fly whisk at the bottom of the sleeping mat: “Isn’t it Dimo?”
“What does he have on his hand?” sang the top fly whisk.
And the bottom fly whisk sang “Isn’t it blood?”
Dimo was very frightened when this happened and he withdrew from the hut. A few minutes later he Plucked up the courage to enter again, and the same thing happened. And so it went on until the morning, when the parents of Dimo’s wife awoke to find their son-in-law outside the hut with a large gourd of sheep’s blood and the sheep all dead upon the ground.
They were very angry and killed Dimo on the spot. They were pleased with Diepetsana, though, and they rewarded him handsomely. He was now a rich man and he looked after his mother well, so that she was no longer poor. Their life had changed, although they still felt sad for the loss of Diepe and thought often of their brother and son who had now gone.
10
Two Bad
Friends
When an important chief died down in that far part of the country, there were many people who went to see him buried. It was a time of great sorrow, as this chief had ruled over many people for many years and had been the son of one who had served with a very great chief.
Two friends, who liked to play tricks on one another and on other people, decided that they would go to the burial too. They walked past a place where there were many mourners, all sitting under a tree and singing about how sad they were that the chief had died.
“We are very sad too,” the two friends said. “We are sad because that great chief was our father.”
When they heard this, the people under the tree were surprised. They asked the two friends if they were sure that the chief was their father, and they replied that they were.
“You must give us money,” one friend said. “You must give us money because we are the sons of the one who has died.”
The people knew that they should do this, but they were unwilling to give money to people whom they did not know.
“If you come with us to the grave,” they said, “then we shall be able to find out whether you really are the sons of that great chief.”
The two friends agreed to do this. There was no reason for them to refuse to go to the grave, and already they were thinking of ways of fooling these people under the tree.
When they reached the grave, there were many people milling about, calling out in sorrow and saying how sad they were that the chief had gone. Even those who had not liked the chief were there, saying that they were more sorry than any others. If the chief had been alive, he would have been pleased to see so many of his enemies shedding so many tears on his death.
The people from under the tree told one of the friends to stand by the side of the grave. He did this, but while he was moving into that position, the other friend hid in a bush which grew near the edge of the grave.
Then one of the people from under the tree called out into the sky.
“Is it true that these men are your sons?”
Everybody was surprised when a voice called out:
“They are my sons. And you must give them lots of money.”
“The chief himself has spoken to us,” the people from under the tree said. “We must do as he says.”
The other friend then slipped out of the bush. The voice had been his, of course, but everybody had thought that it had come from the grave.
The two friends stood