Free The Death of the Mantis by Michael Stanley

around where Monzo was found?”
    “We looked at the top of the donga and up and down the
river bed for about a hundred metres. If someone other than the
Bushmen was close to Monzo, he would have had to be flying,” Lerako
said defensively.
    “Where are these footprints, Khumanego?”
    “I am not sure. I’ve not seen them. They say they are on the
ridge above the river bed.”
    “Please ask if one of them will show us where they are.”
    Khumanego took the younger man aside, and a long exchange
followed, with gestures and discussion. Lerako fumed, and Kubu
wondered why his simple request was taking so long to resolve. At
last Khumanego returned.
    “Ihey will describe to me exactly where to go. But they want you
to release their brothers.”
    Kubu turned to Lerako. “I don’t think the men you are holding
murdered Monzo. Do you still think they did it?”
    Lerako nodded. “Yes. I do. There’s no indication that anyone
else was nearby. My intuition tells me they’re guilty, and I’m
usually right. Let’s go and see these so-called footprints.”
    “If the prints are real, will you release them when you
return?”
    “Maybe.” Kubu heard the reluctance in his voice. “But I doubt
some footprints by themselves will change my mind. There’ll have to
be something else.”
    Kubu put his hand on Khumanego’s shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll
release the men as soon as we get back to Tsabong. We’ll drop them
off as close to here as possible.”
    Lerako glared at him but said nothing.
    “Thank you,” Khumanego murmured. “Before we leave, the old man
wants to pay his respects.”
    Lerako shook his head. “I’m not going to waste any more time.”
But Kubu was intrigued.
    “What’s his name?”
    “He is Gobiwasi. He remembers you. You were two weeks’ walk from
here, three years ago, looking for a big bird. He means an
aeroplane. What was that about?”
    Kubu recalled meeting Gobiwasi and his group in the desert near
Maboane.
    “He helped me solve a difficult case. Provided some very useful
information. Please apologise that I don’t have a gift for
him.”
    Khumanego translated, and then turned back to Kubu.
    “He trusts you. He wonders why you think his sons would kill a
man.”
    “Tell him that we saw no other footprints near the body, so we
wondered who else could be responsible. Tell him also that we now
don’t think they killed anybody.”
    Gobiwasi spoke at length at Kubu, ending his speech with a burst
of laughter and a wide smile of toothless gums.
    Kubu looked at Khumanego quizzically.
    “He says he respects you. He says you have always been fair to
his people. He also says you have the mind of a Bushman, but not
the body!”
    Kubu laughed and turned to Gobiwasi, one hand over his
heart.
    “I will think of myself as an honorary Bushman.”
    Gobiwasi struggled to his feet and held out his hand to Kubu. He
spoke again, quietly.
    “He says you will not meet again. He is old and getting ready to
move on – to meet his ancestors.”
    Kubu bowed his head. “Tell him that he looks well, not sick, and
should live for many more years.”
    Khumanego passed on the message.
    “He says he is now a burden on his family because he cannot
hunt. He is an extra mouth they cannot afford to feed. It is time
to leave.” He walked over to Gobiwasi and gently took him by the
elbow. “Please give me a few minutes alone with him.” Without
waiting, he led the old man away.
    Kubu shook his head and wondered whether he would ever
understand these little people. Lerako looked as if he were about
to explode.
    ♦
    Khumanego and the old man squatted under a tree with few leaves.
Khumanego addressed him respectfully in the IGwi dialect.
    “Gobiwasi, old man. You are wise. You have seen many things. I
fear for the future. For our people.”
    Gobiwasi nodded sadly. “It may be so.”
    “I can talk for only a short time. So I must be direct. I wish
to talk of The Place.”
    Gobiwasi looked at him at length with