"Don't suppose she could, or made fires either," said Dyke, laughing. "Very good, then, little un. Tant is quite good-looking enough for us.--Hi! there, old girl, take these and keep them cool. Cook one for dinner." The woman nodded, took the net, swung it over her back, and the next minute the creamy-white eggs were seen reposing on the dark skin. After seeing to the horses, Dyke made some remark to his brother about wanting his corn too, and he went quietly round to the back, where Tant was busy over the fire, preparing one of the eggs by cooking it _au naturel_, not boiling in a saucepan, but making the thick shell itself do duty for one. She looked up and showed her teeth as Dyke came in sight, and then went on with her work, which was that of stirring the egg, whose treatment was very simple. She had chipped a little hole in one end, big enough to admit a stick, and had placed the other end deep down in the glowing dry cake ashes, squatting down on her heels on one side of the fire, while Jack sat in a similar position on the other, watching his wife as she kept on stirring the egg with the piece of wood. "Oh there you are, Jack," said Dyke; "we've shot a big lion." "Baas kill?" "Yes. You're coming with us to skin it this evening?" The Kaffir shook his head, and then lowered it upon one hand, making a piteous grimace. "Jack sick, bad," he said. "Jack no sick bad," cried Tanta, leaping up angrily. As she spoke, she raised one broad black foot, and gave her husband a sharp thrust in the ribs, with the result that he rolled over and then jumped up furiously to retaliate. "Ah, would you!" cried Dyke; and the dog, which had followed him, began to growl. "Yes, you hit her, and I'll set Duke at you," cried Dyke. "Can't you see he's ashamed?" Jack growled fiercely, and his wife reseated herself upon her heels, and went on stirring the egg again, laughing merrily the while. "No sick bad," she said; and then wanting to say something more, she rattled off a series of words, all oom and click, for Jack's benefit, the Kaffir listening the while. The egg was soon after declared to be done, and formed a very satisfactory omelette-like addition to the hard biltong and mealie cake which formed the ostrich-farmers' dinner. "I'd a deal rather we'd shot an antelope, Joe," said Dyke, as he ground away at the biltong, that popular South African delicacy, formed by cutting fresh meat into long strips, and drying them in the sun before the flesh has time to go bad--a capital plan in a torrid country, where decomposition is rapid and salt none too plentiful; but it has its drawbacks, and is best suited to the taste of those who appreciate the chewing of leather with a superlatively high flavour of game. "Yes, it is time we had some fresh meat, old chap," said Emson good-humouredly. "After that slice of luck with the birds, we'll try for some guinea-fowl or a springbok in the morning."