But if the boys did not get elephant pictures as soon as they hoped, they did get some other rare films. Once they were lucky enough to snap a herd of zebras, and again a number of wild ostriches were come upon. The latter were nearly the cause of a tragedy, for, after the pictures had been taken, one of the porters, not understanding what was going on, came from where the other blacks had made a temporary camp, and started across the plain where the big birds were. A cock ostrich chased him, and as the kick of these birds is as bad as one from a horse, with the additional danger that the toe-nails can cut like a knife, the black man was in peril. He started to run, but the ostrich was speeding after him. Happy One saw his fellow porter’s danger and called out something in their queer tongue. “What is he saying?” asked Blake, while C. C. caught up his gun and drew a bead on the angry bird. “He is telling him,” translated the sergeant, “to pick up a piece of thorn bush, and hold it in front of the bird.” “What good will that do; charm it?” asked Blake. “No, but there is a very tender spot in the neck of an ostrich, just under the head,” said the sergeant, “and it dreads the prick of a thorn there more than anything else. That’s the only way to protect yourself from one of the big birds.” The black man did as directed. As he ran he caught up a long piece of thorn bush. Turning, he faced the ostrich, and, as he advanced the thorns toward the bird’s neck, the creature stopped and then began to “waltz” around the porter, seeking an opening. But the man continually presented the thorn bush at the creature, and then, getting a good chance, C. C. shot the big bird. “Too bad,” said the actor-hunter; “but it had to be done.” Blake and Joe had filmed the odd scene, and later they took some of the ostrich feathers as souvenirs, some of the porters adding the plumes to their already fantastic headdresses. “I wonder when we will come up to those elephants?” asked Blake a little later that day, when they were once more on the march. “The trail is getting fresher,” said C. C. “We ought to be up to them soon.” “I’ll have one of the porters climb a tree, and see if he can make them out,” said the sergeant. The black man had scarcely reached the top of a tall bamboo standing on the edge of the broad trail, than he set up a shout. “What does he say?” demanded Blake. “He sees the elephants!” cried the sergeant. “Get ready now, boys. The wind is in our favor, and you may be able to get some pictures of them feeding.” CHAPTER XIX A SHOT IN TIME Cautiously the moving picture boys made their way along the elephant trail. They had two cameras with them, for they remembered the accident that had interfered with their getting a film of the charge of the rhinoceros, when the celluloid broke at a critical moment.