"I'll try," said Dyke; and going gently toward where the bird lay crouched in a heap, he spoke softly to it, as he had been accustomed to speak to the others when going to feed them. But his advance was the signal for the bird to draw back its head, its eyes flashing angrily, while it emitted a fierce roaring sound that was like that of some savage, cat-like beast. It struck out with beak and wings, and made desperate efforts to rise. "Stop!" cried Emson sharply. "I'm not afraid," cried Dyke. "I'll get hold of his neck, and try and hold him." "I know," said his brother; "but the poor creature will knock itself to pieces." "But so it will if you leave it quiet," cried Dyke; and then, sharply: "Ah! you cowardly brutes, let him alone." This was to some half-a-dozen cock birds in the pen, which, possibly in remembrance of the many times they had been thrashed and driven about the pen by their injured king, seized the opportunity of his downfall to thrust out their long necks and begin striking at him savagely, seizing him by the feathers, and dragging them out, till he shuffled beyond their reach. "His fate's sealed if he is put with the rest; that's very evident," said Emson. "Killum!" said the Kaffir, nodding his head. "Let's shut him up in the stable," said Dyke, "and tie him down while we set his leg." "It would mean such a desperate struggle that the poor bird would never get over it; and if it did, it would mope and die. Better put it out of its misery." Just then a big rough dog came out of the house, where it had been having a long sleep through the hot part of the day, and after giving Dyke a friendly wag of the tail, walked slowly toward the injured ostrich. That was enough to make the bird draw back its head and strike at the dog, which avoided the blow, and growling fiercely, prepared to resent the attack. "Come away, Duke," cried Dyke. "To heel, sir." The dog growled and seemed to protest, but went obediently behind his younger master. "I had better shoot the bird, Dyke," said Emson. "No, no; don't. Let's have a try to save it. Perhaps when it finds that we want to do it good, it will lie quiet." "No," said Emson; "it will take it as meant for war." "Well, let's try," said Dyke.--"Here, Breezy: stable." The cob walked slowly away toward its shed, and the other horse followed, while Dyke hurriedly fetched a couple of pieces of rope, formed of twisted antelope skin. "What do you propose doing?" said Emson. "All run in together, and tie his neck to one wing; then he'll be helpless, and we can tie his thighs together. You can set the leg then." "Well, I'll try," said Emson. "Wait till I've cut a couple of pieces of wood for splints. What can I get?"