CHAPTER FOUR.
ANOTHER FAILURE?
"Why, Dyke, boy, you've done it now," cried Joe Emson, cantering closeup, his horse snorting as the ostrich struck at him with its snake-likehead.
"Yes, you had better have left me where I was by the spring," said theboy disconsolately. "I hated the old wretch, but I didn't want to hurthim."
"I know, my lad, I know," said Emson. "I'm not blaming you, but it doesseem a pity. What bad luck I do have with these birds, to be sure.--Liestill, you savage; you can't get up!"
This to the bird, which, after striking at him two or three times, madea desperate effort to rise, fluttering and beating with its wings, andhopping a little, but trailing its broken leg as it made for the pen,within which were all its friends.
"Yes, you had better have stayed at home, old fellow," said Dyke,apostrophising the unhappy bird; "then you wouldn't have got into thisstate.--I say, Joe, couldn't we set its leg? It would soon growtogether again."
"If he were one of the quiet old hens, I'd say yes; but it would beimpossible. Directly we went near, there would be a kick or a peck."
"I'll try," said Dyke; and going gently toward where the bird laycrouched in a heap, he spoke softly to it, as he had been accustomed tospeak to the others when going to feed them. But his advance was thesignal for the bird to draw back its head, its eyes flashing angrily,while it emitted a fierce roaring sound that was like that of somesavage, cat-like beast. It struck out with beak and wings, and madedesperate efforts to rise.
"Stop!" cried Emson sharply.
"I'm not afraid," cried Dyke. "I'll get hold of his neck, and try andhold him."
"I know," said his brother; "but the poor creature will knock itself topieces."
"But so it will if you leave it quiet," cried Dyke; and then, sharply:"Ah! you cowardly brutes, let him alone."
This was to some half-a-dozen cock birds in the pen, which, possibly inremembrance of the many times they had been thrashed and driven aboutthe pen by their injured king, seized the opportunity of his downfall tothrust out their long necks and begin striking at him savagely, seizinghim by the feathers, and dragging them out, till he shuffled beyondtheir reach.
"His fate's sealed if he is put with the rest; that's very evident,"said Emson.
"Killum!" said the Kaffir, nodding his head.
"Let's shut him up in the stable," said Dyke, "and tie him down while weset his leg."
"It would mean such a desperate struggle that the poor bird would neverget over it; and if it did, it would mope and die. Better put it out ofits misery."
Just then a big rough dog came out of the house, where it had beenhaving a long sleep through the hot part of the day, and after givingDyke a friendly wag of the tail, walked slowly toward the injuredostrich.
That was enough to make the bird draw back its head and strike at thedog, which avoided the blow, and growling fiercely, prepared to resentthe attack.
"Come away, Duke," cried Dyke. "To heel, sir."
The dog growled and seemed to protest, but went obediently behind hisyounger master.
"I had better shoot the bird, Dyke," said Emson.
"No, no; don't. Let's have a try to save it. Perhaps when it findsthat we want to do it good, it will lie quiet."
"No," said Emson; "it will take it as meant for war."
"Well, let's try," said Dyke.--"Here, Breezy: stable."
The cob walked slowly away toward its shed, and the other horsefollowed, while Dyke hurriedly fetched a couple of pieces of rope,formed of twisted antelope skin.
"What do you propose doing?" said Emson.
"All run in together, and tie his neck to one wing; then he'll behelpless, and we can tie his thighs together. You can set the legthen."
"Well, I'll try," said Emson. "Wait till I've cut a couple of pieces ofwood for splints. What can I get?"
"Bit of box-lid," replied Dyke; and in a few minutes Emson returned,bearing in addition a flat roll of stout webbing, such as is used byupholsterers, and by the poor emigrants to lace together across a frame,and form the beds upon which they stretch their weary bones at night.
"I think I can set it, and secure it," said Emson.
"Why, of course you can."
"Yes, but as soon as it's done, the poor brute will kick it off. Nowthen, how about tying him?"
"Rush him," said Dyke laconically. "Come along, Jack, and help."
But the Kaffir shook his head rapidly.
"Why, hullo! You won't back out, Jack?"
"No. Him kick, bite: no good."
"Never you mind that," cried Dyke. "You rush in with us, and hold hishead, while we take his legs and wings. Do you understand?"
"No," said the Kaffir, shaking his head. "Killum--killum!" and he madea gesture as if striking with a club.
"Not going to kill," cried Dyke. "You rush in and hold the head. Doyou understand?"
"No," said the Kaffir.
"He won't," cried Emson. "We shall have to do it ourselves, Dyke. Makea noose and lasso the brute's head. Then when I run in to seize theleg, you drag the neck tight down to the wing, and hold it there."
Dyke nodded, made a noose at the end of his hide rope, and advancedgently toward the ostrich, which struck at him, but only to dart itshead through the loop; and this was drawn tight.
"Now, Joe, ready?" cried the boy, as the dog set up a furious barking,and joined in the rush that was made by the brothers, who succeeded inpinning down the bird. Emson holding the legs, while avoiding a buffetfrom the uppermost wing, Dyke slipped the rope round the bone, draggeddown the head, and after a furious struggle, the bird lay still.
"Think you can manage now?" panted Dyke, who was hot from exertion.
"Yes; I'll tie his legs together, after setting the broken one. It'sthe only chance for him."
"Yes; it's all right," cried Dyke; "he's getting weaker, and giving in."
"Seems like it," said his brother sarcastically, for as the boy spoke,the great bird began to beat with its wings with terrific violence,keeping it up for fully five minutes, and giving the pair a hard task tohold it down, while the Kaffir looked on calmly enough, and the dog kepton charging in, as if eager to seize one of the legs, and hold it still.
"Well, there then, he is giving in now," panted Dyke, who had beencompelled to put forth all his strength to keep from being thrown off bythe violent buffeting of the bird's wings. "Look sharp, and get itdone."
Dyke got one hand at liberty now to wipe the feather-down from his face,where the perspiration made it adhere, and as he looked up, he could notrefrain from laughing aloud at the row of comical flat heads peeringover the wire fence, where the ostriches in the pen were gatheredtogether to look on.
"Yes," said Emson gravely; "he is giving in now, poor brute. He'llnever hunt the young cocks round the enclosure again."
"And they know it, too," cried Dyke. "Look at them wagging their sillyold heads and trying to look cunning.--But hullo why don't you go on?"
"Can't you see?" said Emson. "The horse's hoofs must have struck him inthe side as well. The poor old goblin is dead."
Dyke leaped to his feet in dismay, and stared sceptically from hisbrother to the bird, and back again and again.
It was true enough: the great bird, which so short a time ago wasseeming to spin with such wonderful speed across the veldt that its legswere nearly invisible, now lay on its side, with the stilt-like membersperfectly still, one being stretched out to its full length, the otherin a peculiar double angle, through the broken bone making a freshjoint.
"Oh, the poor old goblin!" said the boy, hurriedly unloosening the reinwhich held down its head. "I didn't choke it, did I? No: look, theloop was quite big."
"No; the ribs are crushed in," said Emson, feeling beneath the beautifulplumage. "Another loss, Dyke. We shall find out all his good qualitiesnow."
"Breezy kick and killum," said the Kaffir sententiously. "Bird kick,horse kick; killum--shouldn't kick."
/> "Here, you go back to your kraal, and set up for a wise man of thesouth," cried Dyke pettishly. "How long did it take you to find out allthat?" "Yes, killum dead," said the Kaffir, nodding. "Bosh!" criedDyke, turning impatiently away. "Well, we must make the best of it,"said Emson then. "His feathers will be worth something, for they are infine condition. Let's get them off at once."
The heat of the sun was forgotten, and so was Dyke's want of energy, forhe set to work manfully, helping his brother to cut off the abundantplumes, tying them up in loose bundles with the quill ends level, thatthey might dry, and carefully carrying them into the room used forstoring feathers, eggs, and such curiosities as were collected from timeto time; Dyke having displayed a hobby for bringing home stones,crystals, birds' eggs, and any attractive piece of ore, that he foundduring his travels. These were ranged in an old case, standing uprightagainst the corrugated iron wall, where, a few boardings nailed acrossfor shelves, the boy had an extremely rough but useful cabinet, the lidof the case forming the door when attached by a pair of leather hingestacked on with wire nails.
"There," said Emson, when the last plumes had been removed; "what do yousay to having the skin off? It will make a mat."
Dyke nodded, and the Kaffir now helping, the bird's tough skin wasstripped off, and laid, feathers downward, on the roof to dry.
"Jackals can't reach it there, can they?" said Emson.
"No, I think not. Leopard might come and pull it down."
"Yes: don't let Duke be out of a night; there has been one hanging aboutlately.--But what are you going to do?"
"Dissect him," said Dyke, who was on his knees with his sharpsheath-knife in his hand.
"Nonsense! Leave it now."
"I want to see the poor old goblin's gizzard, and open it. I know hehas got knives and all sorts of things inside."
"Then you may look," said Emson. "I'm going to feed the horses and havea wash; they haven't been unsaddled yet."
He went to the thorn-fence and disappeared, while, hot and tired now,Dyke made short work of opening the great bird, and dragging out thegizzard, which he opened as a cook does that of a fowl, and exclaimedaloud at the contents:
"Here, Jack, fetch me some water in the tin;" and while the "boy" wasgone, Dyke scraped out on to the sand quite a heap of pieces of flintystone, rough crystals, and some pieces of iron, rusty nails, and agood-sized piece of hoop.
"I must have a look at you afterwards," said the boy, as he picked outsome forty or fifty of the dingy-looking rough crystals, gave them a rubover and over in the dry sand upon which he knelt, to dry them, and thenthrust them--a good handful--into his pocket.
"Do for the collection," he said to himself with a laugh. "Label:crystals of quartz, discovered in a goblin's gizzard by Vandyke Emson,Esquire, F.A.S., Kopfontein, South Africa."
"Wanterwater?"
"Yes, I do `wanterwater,'" cried Dyke, turning sharply on the Kaffir,who had returned. "I want to wash my hands. Look at 'em, Jack!"
"Narcy!" said the man, making a grimace.
"Hold hard, though; let's have a drink first," cried the boy. "It looksclean;" and raising the tin, he took a deep draught before using thevessel for a good wash, taking a handful of sand in the place of soap.
"Find the knife?" said Emson, coming back from the stable.
"No, but look here," cried Dyke, pointing to the great piece ofhoop-iron. "Fancy a bird swallowing that."
"Iron is good for birds, I suppose," said Emson quietly.--"Here, Jack,drag that bird right away off; remember, a good way. Mind, I don't wantthe jackals too close to-night."
The Kaffir nodded, seized the bird's legs as if they were the shafts ofa cart or handles of a wheelbarrow.
The load was heavy, though, and he shook his head, with reason, for sucha bird weighed three hundred pounds, and it spoke well for its legmuscles that it could go at the rate of forty or fifty miles an hour.
"Too big," grumbled Jack; so Dyke seized one of the legs, and togetherthey walked away with the dead bird, dragging it quite a quarter of amile out beyond the ostrich-pens, ready for the jackals to come and playscavenger. After which Dyke returned to his brother, and they went into where Tanta Sal, Jack's wife, had prepared a substantial meal.
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