Part 5 (1/2)

”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.