When hunger was somewhat appeased, Fritz once more cast his eyes over the expanse of plain before us, and after looking fixedly for a moment, exclaimed:
“Is it possible that I see a party of horsemen riding at full gallop toward us! Can they be wild Arabs of the desert?”
“Arabs my boy! Certainly not; but take the spyglass and make them out exactly. We shall have to be on our guard, whatever they are!”
“I cannot see distinctly enough to be sure,” said he presently, “and imagination supplies the deficiency of sight in most strange fashion. I could fancy them wild cattle, loaded carts, wandering haycocks, in fact almost anything I like.”
The spyglass passed from hand to hand. Jack and Ernest agreed in thinking the moving objects were men on horseback; but when it came to my turn to look, I at once pronounced them to be very large ostriches.
“This is fortunate, indeed!” I exclaimed. “We must try to secure one of these magnificent birds; the feathers alone are worth having.”
“A live ostrich, father! That would be splendid. Why, we might ride upon him!”
As the ostriches approached, we began to consider in what way we should attempt a capture. I sent Fritz and Jack to recall the dogs, and placed myself with Ernest behind some shrubs which would conceal us from the birds as they came onward.
The boys did not rejoin us for some little time. They found Knips and the dogs at a pool of water formed by a small mountain stream, which the monkey’s instinct had detected. His sudden departure was thus accounted for, and they availed themselves right gladly of his discovery, filling their flasks and hastily bathing before their return.
The ostriches continued to come in our direction, varying their pace as though in sport, springing, trotting, galloping, and chasing each other round and round, so that their approach was by no means rapid.
I could now perceive that of the five birds one only was a male, the white plumes of the wings and tail contrasting finely with the deep glossy black of the neck and body.
The color of the females being ashen brown, the effect of their white plumes was not so handsome.
“I do not believe we shall have a chance with these birds,” said I, “except by sending Fritz’s eagle in pursuit. And for that we must bide our time, and let them come as near as possible.”
“In what way, then, are ostriches caught by the natives of the African deserts?” inquired Fritz.
“Sometimes by chase on horseback; but their speed is so very great that even that must be conducted by stratagem.
“When these birds are pursued, they will run for hours in a wide circle. The hunter gallops after them, but describes a much smaller circle, and can therefore maintain the pace for a longer time, waiting to make the attack until the bird is fatigued.
“When aware of an enemy they defend themselves desperately, using their powerful legs as weapons, always kicking forward, and inflicting dreadful injuries on dogs, and even on men, if attacked without due precaution. But let us take up our positions, and keep perfectly still, for the ostriches are at hand!”
We held the dogs concealed as much as possible. The stately birds, suddenly perceiving us, paused, hesitated, and appeared uneasy. Yet as no movement was made, they drew a few steps nearer, with outstretched necks, examining curiously the unwonted spectacle before them.
The dogs became impatient, struggled from our grasp, and furiously rushed toward our astonished visitors. In an instant they turned and fled with the speed of the wind; their feet seemed not to touch the ground, their wings aiding their marvelously rapid progress.
In a few moments they would have been beyond our reach, but as they turned to fly the eagle was unhooded. Singling out the male bird the falcon made his fatal swoop, and piercing the skull, the magnificent creature was laid low. Before we could reach the spot the dogs had joined the bird of prey, and were fiercely tearing the flesh and bedaubing the splendid plumes with gore.
The sight grieved us.
“What a pity we could not capture this glorious bird alive!” exclaimed Fritz, as we took its beautiful feathers. “It must, I am sure, have stood more than six feet high, and two of us might have mounted him at once!”
“In the vast sandy deserts where nothing grows, what can flocks of these birds find to live upon?” inquired Ernest.
“That would indeed be hard to say, if the deserts were utterly barren and unfruitful,” returned I; “but over these sandy wastes a beneficent Providence scatters plants of wild melons, which absorb and retain every drop of moisture, and which quench the thirst as well as satisfy the hunger of the ostriches and other inhabitants of the wilds. These melons, however, do not constitute his entire diet. He feeds freely on grasses, dates, and hard grain, when he can obtain them.”
“Does the ostrich utter any cry?”
“The voice of the ostrich is a deep, hollow, rumbling sound, so much resembling the roar of a lion as to be occasionally mistaken for it. But what does Jack mean by waving his cap and beckoning in that excited fashion? What has the boy found, I wonder!”
He ran a little toward us, shouting:
“Eggs, father! Ostriches’ eggs! A huge nestful—do come quick!”
We all hastened to the spot, and in a slight hollow of the ground beheld more than twenty eggs, as large as an infant’s head.
The idea of carrying more than two away with us was preposterous, although the boys, forgetting what the weight would be, seriously contemplated clearing the nest.
They were satisfied when a kind of landmark had been set up, so that if we returned we might easily find the nest.
As each egg weighed about three pounds, the boys soon found the burden considerable, even when tied into a handkerchief and carried like a basket. To relieve them, I cut a strong elastic heath stick, and suspending an egg in its sling at each end, Laid the bent stick over Jack’s shoulder, and like a Dutch dairymaid with her milk pails, he stepped merrily along without inconvenience.
We presently leached a marshy place, surrounding a little pool evidently fed by the stream which Knips had discovered. The soft ground was trodden and marked by the footsteps of many different sorts of animals. We saw tracks of buffaloes, antelopes, onagas or quaggas, but no trace whatever of any kind of serpent. Hitherto our journey in search of monster reptiles had been signalized by very satisfactory failure.
By this brook we sat down to rest and take some food. Fangs presently disappeared, and Jack calling to his pet discovered him gnawing at something he had dug from the marsh. Taking it for a root of some sort, Jack brought it for my inspection. I dipped it in water to clear off the mud, and to my surprise found a queer little living creature, no bigger than half an apple, in my hand. It was a small tortoise.
“A tortoise, I declare!” cried Fritz. “What a long way from the sea. How came it here, I wonder?”
“Perhaps there has been a tortoise shower,” remarked Ernest. “One reads of frog showers in the time of the ancient Romans.”
“Hullo, professor, you’re out for once,” said I. “This is nothing but a mud tortoise, which lives in wet, marshy ground and fresh water. They are useful in gardens; for although they like a few lettuce leaves now and then, they will destroy numbers of snails, grubs, and worms.”
Resuming our journey, we arrived at a charming valley, verdant, fruitful, and shaded by clumps of graceful trees. It afforded us the greatest delight and refreshment to pass along this cool and lovely vale, which we agreed to call Glen Verdant.
In the distance we could see herds of antelopes or buffaloes feeding; but as our dogs continually ranged a long way ahead of us, they were quickly startled, and vanished up one or other of the narrow gorges which opened out of the valley.
Following the imperceptible windings of the vale, we were surprised, on quitting it for the more open ground, to find ourselves in a country we were already acquainted with, and not far from the Jackal Cave, as we called the place where Fangs had been captured in cubhood.
On recognizing the spot, Ernest, who was in advance with one of the dogs, hastened toward it. We lost sight of him for a few minutes, and then arose a cry of terror, violent barking, and deep, surly growls.
As we rushed forward, Ernest met us, looking white as ashes, and calling out:
“A bear, a bear, father! He is coming after me!”
The boy clung to me in mortal fear. I felt his whole frame quivering.
“Courage, my son!” cried I, disengaging myself from his grasp. “We must prepare for instant defense!”
The dogs dashed forward to join the fray, whatever it was; and not long were we in doubt. To my no small consternation, an enormous bear made his appearance, quickly followed by another.
With leveled guns, my brave Fritz and I advanced slowly to meet them. Jack was also ready to fire, but the shock had so unnerved Ernest that he fairly took to his heels. We fired together, one at each bear; but though hit, the monsters were unfortunately only wounded. We found it most difficult to take aim, as the dogs beset them on all sides. However, they were much disabled, one having the lower jaw broken, and the other, with a bullet in his shoulder, was effectually lamed.
The dogs, perceiving their advantage, pressed more closely round their foes, who yet defended themselves furiously, with frightful yells of pain and rage. Such was the confusion and perpetual movement of the struggle that I dared not fire again, seeing that even slightly wounding one of our gallant hounds would instantly place him in the power of the raging bears.
Watching our opportunity, we suddenly advanced with loaded pistols to within a very few paces of the animals, and firing, both fell dead, one shot through the head, the other, in the act of rearing to spring on Fritz, received his charge in its heart.
“Thank Heaven!” cried I, as with dun groans the brutes sank to the ground. “We have escaped the greatest peril we have yet encountered!”
The dogs continued to tear and worry the fallen foe, as though unwilling to trust the appearance of death. With feelings somewhat akin, I drew my hunting knife and made assurance doubly sure.
Seeing all safe, Jack raised a shout of victory, that poor Ernest might gain courage to approach the scene of conflict, which at last he did, and joined us in examining the dangerous animals, as they lay motionless before us.
“Well my lads,” said I, “if we have failed to catch sight of serpents, we have at least made good riddance of some other bad rubbish! These fellows would one day have worked us woe, or I am much mistaken. What’s to be done next?”
“Why, skin them, to be sure,” said Fritz. “We shall have a couple of splendid bearskin rugs.”
As this process would take time and evening drew on, we dragged the huge carcasses into their den, to await our return, concealing them with boughs of trees and fencing the entrance as well as we could. The ostrich eggs we also left behind us, hidden in a sandy hole.
By sunset we reached the tent, and joyfully rejoined the mother and Franz, right glad to find a hearty meal prepared for us, as well as a large heap of brushwood for the watch fire.
When a full account of our adventures had been given, with a minute and special description of the bear fight, it was time to retire.
The following morning after breakfast and our accustomed devotions we harnessed the cart and took the way to the bears’ den. Fritz headed the party, and, coming in sight of the entrance to the cave, called out softly:
“Make haste and you will see a whole crowd of wild turkeys, who seem to have come to attend the funeral obsequies of their respected friend and neighbor, Bruin, here. But there appears to be a jealous watcher who is unwilling to admit the visitors to the bed of state!”
The Watcher, as Fritz called him, was an immensely large bird, with a sort of comb on his head, and a loose, fleshy skin hanging from beneath the beak. Part of the neck was bare, wrinkled, and purplish red, while around it, resting on the shoulders, was a downy collar of soft, white feathers. The plumage was grayish brown, marked here and there with white patches; the feet appeared to be armed with strong claws. This great bird guarded the entrance to the cave, occasionally retiring into it himself for a few minutes; but as soon as the other birds came pressing in after him, he hurried out again, and they were forced to retire.
We stopped to observe this curious scene, and were startled suddenly by a mighty rush of wings in the air above us. We looked up. At the same moment Fritz fired, and an enormous bird fell heavily head foremost on the rocks, by which its neck was broken, while blood flowed from a wound in the breast.
We had been holding back the dogs, but they, with Fritz, now rushed toward the cave, the birds rising around them and departing with heavy, ungainly flight, leaving only Fritz’s prize, and one of the other birds killed by the large one in its fall.
With the utmost caution I entered the cave, and rejoiced to find that the tongue and eyes only of the bears had been devoured; a little later and we should have had the handsome skins pecked and torn to rags, and all chance of steaks and bears’ paws gone.
On measuring the wings of the large bird from tip to tip, I found the length exceeded eleven feet, and concluded it to be a condor. It was evidently the mate of the “Watcher,” as Fritz called the first we saw.
To work we now went on the bears, and no slight affair we found it to skin and cut them up, but by dint of perseverance we at last succeeded in our object.
Determining to smoke the meat on the spot, we cut magnificent hams, and took off the rest of the meat in slices after the manner of the buccaneers in the West Indies, preserving the paws entire to be cooked as a delicacy, and obtaining from the two bears together a prodigious supply of lard, which my wife gladly undertook to melt and prepare for keeping.
The bones and offal we drew to some distance with the help of our cattle, and made the birds of the air most welcome to feast upon it. This, with the assistance of all sorts of insects, they did so effectually that before we left the place the skulls were picked perfectly clean, the sun had dried them, and they were ready for us to carry off to our museum.
The skins had to be very carefully scraped, washed, salted, cleansed with ashes, and dried; which occupied fully two days.
We were glad of this occupation during the tedious business of smoking the bears’ meat, and availed ourselves of the leisure time by also preparing for stuffing the condor and the turkey buzzard, urubu or black vulture—for I could not determine to which species the smaller bird belonged.
The four boys at length became so weary of inaction that I determined to let them make an excursion alone on the savanna. Three of them received this permission with eager delight, but Ernest said he would prefer to remain with us; remarking that he had a fancy for making ornamental cups from the ostrich eggs.
Little Franz, on the other hand, was wild to go with his brothers, and I was obliged to consent, as I had made the proposal open to all and could not draw back.
In the highest spirits they ran to bring their steeds (as we were fain to call the cattle they rode) from their pasturage at a short distance. Speedily were they saddled, bridled, and mounted—the three lads were ready to be off.
It was my wish that our sons should cultivate a habit of bold independence, for well I knew that it might be the will of God to deprive them easily of their parents; when, without an enterprising spirit of self-reliance, their position would be truly miserable.
My gallant Fritz possessed this desirable quality in no small degree, and to him I committed the care of his young brothers, charging them to look up to and obey him as their leader.
They were well armed, well mounted, had a couple of good dogs; and, with a hearty “God speed and bless you, my boys!” I let them depart.
We, who remained behind, passed the day in a variety of useful occupations.
