"And of course he couldn't," said d.y.k.e, who forgot his p.r.i.c.kly heat and irritation. "But you said it was all brag. Well?"

"The boastful fellow, as soon as the wager was laid, seized the other by the waistband, heaved him up, and pitched him off the wharf into the river, amidst roars of laughter, which were kept up as the man came drenched out of the river, and asked to be paid.

"'Oh no,' said the other; 'I didn't say I'd do it the first time. But I kin dew it, and I will dew it, if I try till to-morrow morning;' and catching hold of the wet man, he heaved him up again, and threw him by a tremendous effort nearly a couple of yards out into the river. Down he went out of sight in the deep water, and out he scrambled again, hardly able to speak, when he was seized once more.

"'Third time never fails,' cried the fellow; but the other had had enough of it, and owned he was beaten."

"But it was by an artful trick," cried d.y.k.e.

"Of course it was, boy; but what I want you to notice was the spirit of the thing, though it was only bragging; I kin dew it, and I will dew it, if I try till to-morrow morning. We kin dew it, and we will dew it, d.y.k.e, even if we have to try till to-morrow morning-- to-morrow-come-never-morning."

"Oh!" groaned d.y.k.e, sinking back upon the sand; "I am so hot and dry."

CHAPTER TWO.

d.y.k.e ROUSES UP.

That was months before the opening of our story, when d.y.k.e was making his way in disgust toward the moist shade of the kopje, where, deep down from cracks of the granite rock, the spring gurgled out.

Only a part ran for a few yards, and then disappeared in the sand, without once reaching to where the sun blazed down.

Joe Emson shouted once more, but d.y.k.e would not turn his head.

"Let him follow me if he wants me," muttered the boy. "He isn't half so hot as I am."

Hot or not hot, the big fellow took off his broad Panama hat, gave his head a vicious rub, replaced it, and turned to shout again. "Jack!

Ahoy, Jack!"

There was no reply to this, for Kaffir Jack lay behind the house in a very hot place, fast asleep upon the sand, with his dark skin glistening in the sunshine, the pigment within keeping off the blistering sunburn which would have followed had the skin been white.

"I shall have to go after him," muttered Joe Emson; and, casting off the feeling of languor which had impelled him to call others instead of acting himself, he braced himself up, left the scorching iron house behind, and trotted after d.y.k.e, scaring a group of stupid-looking young ostriches into a run behind the wire fence.

He knew where he would find his half-brother, and there he was, lying upon his breast, with a cushion of green mossy growth beneath him, a huge hanging rock overhead casting a broad shade, and the water gurgling cool and clear so close that he had but to stretch out his hand to scoop it up and drink from the palm.

Outside there was the scorching, blinding sunshine, however, and among the rocks all looked black, and seemed rather cool.

"Oh, you lazy young sybarite!" cried Joe Emson, as he came up. "You always know the best places. Why didn't you answer me?"

"What's the good of answering?" cried d.y.k.e. "I can't help old Goblin getting away again. He will go, and nothing will stop him."

"But something shall stop him," said Joe. "I'll have an iron bar driven into the ground, and tether him with a rope."

"No good," said d.y.k.e drowsily: "he'd eat the rope and swallow the bar."

"Then I'll tether him with a piece of chain."

"He'd roll it up and swallow it.--I say Joe, I feel sure he had that curb chain and the two buckles we missed."

"Nonsense! Come, get up, and help drive him in."

"I'm too tired, and it isn't nonsense. He's always on the lookout for bits of iron and broken crockery. I took a hammer and a cracked willow-pattern plate one day, and broke it up in bits and fed him with them. He ate them all."

"Well, of course: birds do pick up stones and things to fill their gizzards."

"And that's just how I feel," said d.y.k.e.

"Eh? How?"

"As if my gizzard was filled with sharp bits of stone, and it makes me irritable and cross."

"And lazy. Come: jump up."

"I can't, Joe. I said last time I'd never go after the goblin again, and I won't."

"Yes, you will; you'll come and help me drive him in."

"No: let him go."

"Nonsense! He's the best c.o.c.k bird I've got."

"Then the others must be bad ones," grumbled d.y.k.e.

"Get up, sir!" cried Joe, stirring the boy with his toe.

"Shan't. I don't mind your kicking."

"Get up, or I'll duck you in the spring."

"Wouldn't be such a coward, because you're big and strong. Hit one of your own size."

"I declare I will," cried Joe, bending down and seizing the boy by the arm and waistband.

"All right, do: it will be deliriously cool."

Joe Emson rose up and took hold of his big beard.

"Don't leave me everything to do, d.y.k.e, old boy," he said appealingly.

"I wouldn't lose that great ostrich for any money."

d.y.k.e muttered something about hating the old ostrich, but did not stir.

"All right. I'll go alone," said Joe; and he turned away and walked swiftly back.

But before he had gone a dozen yards d.y.k.e had sprung up and overtaken him.

"I'll come, Joe," he said; "but that old c.o.c.k does make me so wild. I know he understands, and he does it on purpose to tease me. I wish you'd shoot him."