"Bit of box-lid," replied d.y.k.e; and in a few minutes Emson returned, bearing in addition a flat roll of stout webbing, such as is used by upholsterers, 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. Now then, how about tying him?"

"Rush him," said d.y.k.e 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 d.y.k.e. "You rush in with us, and hold his head, while we take his legs and wings. Do you understand?"

"No," said the Kaffir, shaking his head. "Killum--killum!" and he made a gesture as if striking with a club.

"Not going to kill," cried d.y.k.e. "You rush in and hold the head. Do you understand?"

"No," said the Kaffir.

"He won't," cried Emson. "We shall have to do it ourselves, d.y.k.e. Make a noose and la.s.so the brute's head. Then when I run in to seize the leg, you drag the neck tight down to the wing, and hold it there."

d.y.k.e nodded, made a noose at the end of his hide rope, and advanced gently toward the ostrich, which struck at him, but only to dart its head 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 in pinning down the bird. Emson holding the legs, while avoiding a buffet from the uppermost wing, d.y.k.e slipped the rope round the bone, dragged down the head, and after a furious struggle, the bird lay still.

"Think you can manage now?" panted d.y.k.e, who was hot from exertion.

"Yes; I'll tie his legs together, after setting the broken one. It's the only chance for him."

"Yes; it's all right," cried d.y.k.e; "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 to hold it down, while the Kaffir looked on calmly enough, and the dog kept on charging in, as if eager to seize one of the legs, and hold it still.

"Well, there then, he is giving in now," panted d.y.k.e, who had been compelled to put forth all his strength to keep from being thrown off by the violent buffeting of the bird's wings. "Look sharp, and get it done."

d.y.k.e 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 not refrain from laughing aloud at the row of comical flat heads peering over the wire fence, where the ostriches in the pen were gathered together to look on.

"Yes," said Emson gravely; "he is giving in now, poor brute. He'll never hunt the young c.o.c.ks round the enclosure again."

"And they know it, too," cried d.y.k.e. "Look at them wagging their silly old 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 in the side as well. The poor old goblin is dead."

d.y.k.e leaped to his feet in dismay, and stared sceptically from his brother to the bird, and back again and again.

It was true enough: the great bird, which so short a time ago was seeming to spin with such wonderful speed across the veldt that its legs were nearly invisible, now lay on its side, with the stilt-like members perfectly still, one being stretched out to its full length, the other in a peculiar double angle, through the broken bone making a fresh joint.

"Oh, the poor old goblin!" said the boy, hurriedly unloosening the rein which held down its head. "I didn't choke it, did I? No: look, the loop was quite big."

"No; the ribs are crushed in," said Emson, feeling beneath the beautiful plumage. "Another loss, d.y.k.e. We shall find out all his good qualities now."

"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 the south," cried d.y.k.e pettishly. "How long did it take you to find out all that?" "Yes, killum dead," said the Kaffir, nodding. "Bosh!" cried d.y.k.e, turning impatiently away. "Well, we must make the best of it,"

said Emson then. "His feathers will be worth something, for they are in fine condition. Let's get them off at once."

The heat of the sun was forgotten, and so was d.y.k.e's want of energy, for he set to work manfully, helping his brother to cut off the abundant plumes, tying them up in loose bundles with the quill ends level, that they might dry, and carefully carrying them into the room used for storing feathers, eggs, and such curiosities as were collected from time to time; d.y.k.e having displayed a hobby for bringing home stones, crystals, birds' eggs, and any attractive piece of ore, that he found during his travels. These were ranged in an old case, standing upright against the corrugated iron wall, where, a few boardings nailed across for shelves, the boy had an extremely rough but useful cabinet, the lid of the case forming the door when attached by a pair of leather hinges tacked on with wire nails.

"There," said Emson, when the last plumes had been removed; "what do you say to having the skin off? It will make a mat."

d.y.k.e nodded, and the Kaffir now helping, the bird's tough skin was stripped 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 about lately.--But what are you going to do?"

"Dissect him," said d.y.k.e, who was on his knees with his sharp sheath-knife in his hand.

"Nonsense! Leave it now."

"I want to see the poor old goblin's gizzard, and open it. I know he has got knives and all sorts of things inside."

"Then you may look," said Emson. "I'm going to feed the horses and have a wash; they haven't been unsaddled yet."

He went to the thorn-fence and disappeared, while, hot and tired now, d.y.k.e made short work of opening the great bird, and dragging out the gizzard, which he opened as a cook does that of a fowl, and exclaimed aloud at the contents:

"Here, Jack, fetch me some water in the tin;" and while the "boy" was gone, d.y.k.e sc.r.a.ped out on to the sand quite a heap of pieces of flinty stone, rough crystals, and some pieces of iron, rusty nails, and a good-sized piece of hoop.

"I must have a look at you afterwards," said the boy, as he picked out some forty or fifty of the dingy-looking rough crystals, gave them a rub over and over in the dry sand upon which he knelt, to dry them, and then thrust 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 Vand.y.k.e Emson, Esquire, F.A.S., Kopfontein, South Africa."

"Wanterwater?"

"Yes, I do 'wanterwater,'" cried d.y.k.e, 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 looks clean;" and raising the tin, he took a deep draught before using the vessel for a good wash, taking a handful of sand in the place of soap.

"Find the knife?" said Emson, coming back from the stable.