"Dead?" cried Dyke excitedly, as he mastered Breezy's objections, and rode up. "Yes; he'll kill no more of our oxen, old chap," cried his brother. "Well done, little un! You stopped him splendidly. That last shot of yours brought him up for me to finish." "Think I hit him, then?" "Think?" said Emson, laughing. "You can easily prove it. Your bullet must have hit him end on. Mine were on his left flank." "He _is_ dead, isn't he?" said Dyke dubious. "As dead as he can well be," said Emson, dismounting, and throwing his rein over his horse's head. "Yes; here we are. Your bullet caught him half-way up the back here; one of mine hit him in the side, and here's the other right through the left shoulder-blade. That means finis. But that shot of yours regularly paralysed him behind. _Your_ lion, little un, and that skin will do for your museum. It's a beauty." "But _you_ killed him," said the boy modestly. "Put him out of his misery, that's all. He is a splendid fellow, though. But he won't run away now, little un.--Let's get on." "But his skin?" said Dyke eagerly. "Too hard a job now, Dyke, under this sun. We'll come over this evening with Jack, and strip that off. Now for the eggs." CHAPTER SEVEN. LIFE ON THE VELDT. The task of finding the emptied ostrich nest proved harder than they expected; but their ride across the barren plain was made interesting by the sight of a herd of gnus and a couple of the beautiful black antelope, with their long, gracefully curved, sharp horns. Just before reaching the nest, too, they had the rather unusual sight, in their part, of half-a-dozen giraffes, which went off in their awkward, lumbering trot toward the north. At last, though, the nest was reached, the scattered eggs gathered into the net, and heedless of these chinking together a little, as they hung between them, they cantered on. "Won't do them any good shaking them up so, will it?" said Dyke. "I've given up all idea of setting these," said Emson. "I should say it would be very doubtful whether they would hatch, and we want a little change in the way of feeding, old fellow. We'll see which are addled, and which are not." Tanta Sal was at the door as they rode up, and her face expanded largely, especially about the eyes and mouth, at the sight of the eggs. "I say, look at Tant," said Dyke merrily. "Did you ever see such a face?" "Never," replied Emson quietly. "She's not beautiful from our point of view." "Beautiful!" "Tastes differ, old chap," said Emson. "No doubt Jack thought her very nice-looking. English people admire small mouths and little waists. It is very evident that the Kaffirs do not; and I don't see why a small mouth should be more beautiful than a large one." "And there isn't so much of it," cried Dyke. "Certainly not, and it is not so useful. No: Tant is not handsome, but she can cook, and I don't believe that Venus could have fetched water from the spring in two buckets half so well."