"You wouldn't have thought it. And here's a great piece of rusty iron that he had swallowed too; I picked it out when I had lost a knife, and thought he had swallowed it." "Mein cracious!" cried the old man again, and he let his pipe fall and break on the rough table. Dyke laughed as the visitor turned over the stones and the bit of rusty iron. "One would have thought it would kill them to swallow things like that, but they're rare birds, Herr Morgenstern; they'll try and swallow anything, even straw-hats." "Mein cracious, yes!" cried the old man again. "Und so, bube, you did vind all dose--dose dings in dem gizzard ov dot pirt?" "Yes, all of them. I've got another bowlful that I picked up myself. There are a good many about here." "You vill let me loog ad dem, mein younger vrient?" "Of course," said Dyke, and he fetched from the case another rough little bowl that he had obtained from one of the Kaffirs. There were about ten times as many of the stones, and with them pieces of quartz, shining with metallic traces, and some curious seeds. Morgenstern turned them over again and again, and glanced at Emson, who looked low-spirited and dejected. "Ach, zo! Mein cracious!" cried the old man; then, with his voice trembling: "Und zo there are blendy of dose shdones apout here?" "Yes; I've often seen the ostriches pick them up and swallow them. I suppose it's because they are bright." "Yes, I suppose it ist pecause they are zo bright," said the old man, pouring out a handful of the stones into his hand, and reverently pouring them back into the rough wooden bowl. Then rising, he shook hands silently with Dyke. "Going to bed?" "No, mein younger vrient, nod yed. I haf somedings to zay to your bruder," and turning to Emson, who rose to say good-night to him, he took both his hands in his own, and pumped them up and down. "Yoseph Emzon," he said, in a deeply moved voice, "I like you when you virst game into dese barts, und I zay dot man is a shentleman; I loaf him, unt den bube, his bruder. Now I gom here und vind you ill, my heart ist zore. I remember, doo, you zay I vas honest man, ant I dank den Lord I am, und dot I feel dot I am, und can say do you, mein young vrient, zom beobles who know what I know now would sheat und rob you, but I vould not. I vont zom days to die, und go ver der Lord vill say, `Vell done, goot und vaithful zervant.' Yoseph Emzon, I am honest man, und I zay do you, all your droubles are over. You haf been zick, but you vill zoon be quide vell und shdrong, vor you vill not haf das sore heart, und de droubles which make do hair drop out of your het." "Thank you, Morgenstern. I hope I shall soon be well enough to go," said Emson, sadly.