ago a chocolate-skinned, curly-haired boy. His name
was Shomolekae.[56]

His work was to go among the fruit trees, when the peaches and
apricots were growing and to shout and make a noise to scare away the
birds. If he had not done this they would have eaten up all the fruit.
This boy was born in Africa over seventy-five years ago, when Victoria
was a young queen.

In the same garden was a grown-up gardener, also an African, with a
dark face and crisp, curly hair. The grown-up gardener one day stole
some of the fruit off the trees, and he went to the little boy,
Shomolekae, and offered him some apricots.

Now, Shomolekae had learned to love the missionary, Mr. Mackenzie,
who had come to live in the house at Kuruman. He knew that it was very
wrong of the gardener to steal the fruit and throw the blame on the
birds. So he said that he would not touch the fruit. He went to an old
black friend of his named Paul and said to him:

"The gardener has stolen the apples and plums and has asked me to eat
them. He has robbed Mr. Mackenzie. I do not know what to do."

And old Paul went and told John Mackenzie, who took notice of the boy
Shomolekae and learned to trust him.

Many months passed by; and two years later John Mackenzie was going
to a place further north in Africa than Kuruman. The name of this town
was Shoshong, where Mackenzie would live and teach the people about
Jesus Christ. So he went to the father of Shomolekae, whose name was
Sebolai.

"Sebolai," said John Mackenzie, "I want to take your son, Shomolekae,
with me to Shoshong."

Sebolai replied: "I am willing that my son should come to live with
you, but one thing I desire. It is that he should be taught his
reading and to know the stories in the Bible and such things."

To this John Mackenzie quickly agreed, for he too desired that the boy
should read.

So the sixteen oxen were yoked to the big wagon, and amid much
shouting and cracking of whips and lowing of oxen and creaking of
wagon-joints, John Mackenzie, Shomolekae, and the others, started from
Kuruman northward to Shoshong.

Now, at Shoshong the chief was Sekhome, who, you remember, in our last
story, was father to Khama. So when they were at Shoshong, Shomolekae,
the young man who was cook, and Khama, the young man who was the son
of the chief, worshipped in the same little church together. It was
not such a church as you go to in our country--but just a little place
made of mud bricks that h