CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
DUKE'S FIND.
Dyke had not far to go--the dog running on and looking back from time totime to see if it was followed, and then going on again. "He has founda snake, perhaps," thought Dyke, as he looked in every direction, butcould see no sign of the bullocks. Duke went on.
"Here! I want to get back with these birds, old fellow," cried Dyke atlast. "Come along back."
But the dog stood fast, and began to bark; then plunged in amongst somemilk-bush, and barked louder than ever.
"Well, I must see what he has found," thought Dyke, and just as it wasgetting dark, he ran on the hundred yards which separated him from thedog, and found him in a state of great excitement.
"Now then, stupid, what is it?" cried Dyke. "I shan't go any farther,mind.--Why, hullo! old chap, what have you got? Why, they're lioncubs!"
Sure enough they were; a pair of big, chubby, whimpering cubs, that intheir heavy way resembled puppies more than creatures of the cat family.
"Here, come away," cried Dyke, after kneeling down to examine thestupid-looking, tawny things, "We shall make the mother feel as fierceas can be, and there'll be no mercy for us then, old chap. But how inthe world did they come to be here? Their mother must be prowling aboutthe place, and--Oh, I see," he cried, as the light came. "It was theirmother I shot, and the poor little creatures are starving. It would bea mercy to kill them."
But the cubs whimpered and whined, and seemed so amiable, that Dyke feltas if he could not be merciful in that way.
"Seems stupid," he muttered, "but I can't go murdering things withoutthere's a good reason for it."
Slinging his gun over his back, he took a piece of leathern thong fromhis pocket and tied the legs of his birds together, noticing that, as hedid so, Duke was poking the young lions about with his nose, and the fatlittle creatures, which were about a third of his size, were snugglingup to him for comfort, whining like puppies the while.
"Here, Duke!" he cried; "carry."
He slung the birds on either side of the dog's neck, and then stoopingdown, picked up the fat, heavy cubs, tucked one under each arm, wherethey nestled to him, and then started for home.
"Nice position for me if I'm wrong," he muttered. "Suppose their motherisn't dead, and she finds me stealing her young ones. Ugh!"
But he was not wrong, and soon after entered the house with his prizes,to find Emson awake and watching him; while Tanta Sal crouched on thefloor, gazing at the lamp which she had lit and seemed to admireintensely.
"How are you?" was Dyke's first question, and on being assured in afaint echo of a voice that his brother was better, he handed two of thebirds to the woman to take and stew down at once.
"Take lion's babies too?" she said, shaking her head severely. "Notgood eat."
"Who wants to eat them?" said Dyke. "No: I'm going to keep them. Come,make haste. I want to see those birds cooking into soup."
"Soup? Ooomps. Tant know make tea--coffee--dinner."
"No, no; soup."
"Ooomps; make bird tea, coffee? Baas Joe drink in spoon."
"Yes, that's right; you understand," cried Dyke, and the woman hurriedout with the birds, the dog following her, his instinct teaching himthat there would be the heads and possibly other odds and ends to fallto his share. But before going, he went and poked at the two cubs anduttered a low bark.
"What do you think of these, Joe?" said Dyke, picking up his prizes, andplacing them on the bed.
"Dangerous, little un," said Emson feebly. "The mother will scent themout."
"No: I feel sure it was their mother I shot last night. She lies outyonder where Tant and I dragged her."
"Ah!" said Emson softly, "it was her skin Tant brought in to show me.She stripped it off to-night."
"She did? Bravo! well done, Tant! But look here, Joe: couldn't I bringthese cubs up?"
"Yes, for a time; but they would grow dangerous. Try."
That night, after finding very little difficulty in getting the cubs tosuck a couple of pieces of rag soaked in milk, Dyke dropped asleep, todream that the lioness had come to life again, and was waiting at thedoor for her cubs; but it proved to be only Tanta Sal once more, just atdaybreak, with a tin of the bird soup, which she had set to stewovernight, and woke up early to get ready for the baas. Of this Emsonpartook with avidity as soon as he woke, his brother laughing merrily ashe fed him with a wooden spoon, while Tant grinned with delight.
"Jack say Baas Joe go die," she cried, clapping her legs with her hands."Jack tief."
Dyke endorsed the words that morning when he visited the still unladenwagon, for a bag of sugar and some more meal had disappeared.
He stood rubbing his ear viciously.
"It's my fault for not taking the things indoors," he said in a vexedtone of voice; "but I can't do everything, and feeding those cubs lastnight made me forget to set Duke to watch."
Then a thought struck him, and he put his head outside the tilt andshouted for Tant, who came running up, and at once climbed into thewagon.
"Did you fetch some mealies from here last night?" asked Dyke.
"No: Jack," cried the woman excitedly--"Jack tief."
"Yes; I thought so," said Dyke thoughtfully. "There, that will do;" andmaking up his mind to watch that night, he went back to the house, had afew words with his brother, and then went round to see that all wasright, coming back to breakfast after Tanta had shown him the lioness'sskin pegged out to dry.
Dyke watched that night, but in vain; Duke watched the next night alsoin vain, for there had been too much to do for the wagon to be emptiedand the stores brought in.
For Emson required, in his weak state, an enormous deal of attention,which, however, was a delight to his brother, who had the satisfactionday by day of seeing him grow slightly better; while the Kaffir womanwas indefatigable, and never seemed to sleep, Dyke's difficulty being tokeep her from making the patient travel in a retrograde path by givinghim too much to eat.
"Baas Joe muss plenty meat, tea, coffee," she said. "No eat, Baas Joedie."
Hence Dyke had hard work to keep the larder supplied. Fortunately,however, the guinea-fowls' roosting place proved to be almostinexhaustible, and twice over a little buck fell to the boy's gun.
Then there was an ample supply of milk, some eggs, and dried meat tostew down, so that the patient did not fare so badly, as his returningstrength showed.
But progress with the ostrich-farm was at a standstill, and Dyke used tolook at the great stilt-stalking birds with a sorrowful air, and wishthey were all running wild.
"But you are getting better fast, Joe," he said one evening as he sat bythe couch.
"Getting better slowly, not fast, little un," replied Emson sadly."Heaven knows how I pray for strength, so as to relieve you, boy."
"Who wants to be relieved?" cried Dyke roughly. "All I mind is notgetting on better with the work, because now I have not Jack to help. Iget on so slowly."
"I know, Dyke," said Emson sadly, as he lay there propped up on his bed.
"Hullo! What's the matter? What have I done?"
"Nothing but what is patient and persevering."
"Oh, no! don't say that," cried the boy. "I've always been adiscontented grumbler ever since I've been here, Joe. But, I say, don'tcall me Dyke. It sounds as if you were getting formal with me, and asif we were not as we used to be before you were taken bad."
"But we are, old chap. Better and more brotherly than ever. I neverknew till now how brave, and true, and manly--Ha! he's gone," sighedEmson sadly; for Dyke had made a sudden bound, and dashed out of theplace, keeping away for fully half an hour, before he thrust in his headonce more.
"Ah, there you are," said Emson. "Come and sit down. I want to speakto you."
"Look here, Joe," cried Dyke. "I'm baas now, and I shall do as I like.Are you going to talk any more of that nonsense? I am going if youare."
"I shall not talk nonsense. I only said--"
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bsp; "You stop, sir. Don't you get only saiding again, for I won't have it.It's weak, and sickly, and sentimental. Who wants to be told that hehelped his brother when he was ill? Such rot! Why, wouldn't you havefed me and washed my face if I'd grown as stupid and weak as you?There, shake hands. I'll forgive you this time; but if ever--Hooray-y-y-y! He's getting some muscle in his arm again. You can feelhim grip! Why, a fortnight ago it was like shaking hands with a deadchicken. I say, Joe, old man, you are heaps better."
"Yes, I'm getting better. I feel as if I shall live now."
"Live? Now there's a jolly old stupid. Just as if you were ever goingto feel anything else. Look here, Joe: I shall have to make analteration. I've been spoiling you, giving you too many good things.And to begin with, I think I'll cut your hair."
"Isn't it short enough?" said Emson rather piteously, as he feeblyraised his hand to his temples.
"Yes, there: it looks nice and fashionable. But all down at the backit's like Breezy's mane."
"Then you shall cut it, Dyke."
"Ah-h-h!"
"Well then, young un. But how is poor Breezy?"
"Getting wild for want of riding. I went toward her yesterday, and shebegan dancing a _pas-de-deux_-legs on her fore-hoofs, and sparred at thesky with her hind. Wait a bit, and you and I'll take some of the steamout of her and Longshanks. We'll hunt out no end of ostriches' nests inthe farther-off part of the veldt. Here, what are you shaking yourjolly old head for? It's been quite shaky enough, hasn't it?"
"I was thinking of the ostrich-farming, little un," said Emson sadly."No, my lad, no more time wasted over that. Two hundred years hencethey may have got a more manageable strain of domesticated birds thatwill live well in confinement. We've had our try, and failed."
"Bah! Not half tried. I haven't. No, Joe, we won't give up. We'll doit yet. Why, it was that black scoundrel Jack who caused half themischief. Oh, Joe, if I could only have caught him when he was knockingthose poor young birds on the head, and had my gun with me."
"What! would you have shot at him, young un?"
"If I'd had small shot in one of the barrels. They'd have just gonethrough, and peppered his hide nicely. I say, Joe, his clothes wouldn'thave stopped the shot corns."
"No," said Emson, smiling; "his clothes wouldn't have stopped them."
"Hooray-y-y-y!" shouted Dyke again, and the two lion cubs looked overthe packing-case in which they were confined, wonderingly.
"Look at him! A regular half laugh. We shall have the whole laughsoon. But there, I mustn't stop, wasting time here."
"Yes; stay a little longer, little un. I want to talk to you," saidEmson.
"About my being such a nice, good boy--so brave and so noodley? No, youdon't. I'm off!"
"No, no; I will not say a word about that. I want to talk to you."
"But the ostriches want feeding."
"They must wait," said Emson sadly. "They've made us wait for profit.Look here, little un; sit down."
"Well, if you want it. But, honour bright: no buttering me."
"I want to talk about our future."
"Well, I can tell you that, Joe. We're going to make a big success ofthe farm."
"No, boy; we are going to give it up."
"What! Sell it?"
"No; I should be ashamed to take money off a man for so worthless abargain. We are going to scrape together what skins and feathers areours, so as to pay our way, and going home."
"What! empty?" cried Dyke. "That we won't."
"We must, boy. I shall never be myself till I have been under a gooddoctor."
"What nonsense, Joe. There, let's talk about something else.--I say,how playful the cubs get; but they're more like big Saint Bernard pupsthan kittens."
"Let us talk about our future, boy," said Emson rather sternly. "I wasthinking bitterly of our prospects when I was sickening for this fever,and I have thought more about them since I have been lying herehelpless; and as soon as I can get about, we must prepare for goinghome."
"Beaten! Go home, and say: `It's of no use, father; we're a poor,helpless pair.'"
"We must accept the inevitable, little un."
"There isn't any inevitable when you're my age, Joe. One always used tofeel on a bad day that sooner or later the fish would begin to bite."
"Yes, but we used to change to another place."
"Sometimes. Well, let's change to another place, then. But it would bea pity. We've got never-failing water here, and even if the lions andbaboons do come sometimes, it's a capital place. I say, Joe, haveanother try."
"You've quite changed your tune, old fellow," said Emson mournfully."Do you remember?"
"Why, of course. What fellow doesn't remember what a donkey he hasbeen? I've often thought of it while you were ill, Joe, and of what anuisance I must have been while you were so patient. And I said tomyself--There, never mind that--I say, Joe, do you really mean for us togo back beaten?"
"Yes."
"Not have one more try!"
"No: I am too much broken down."
"But I'm not. I'm getting full of pluck and work now, and I'll doanything to keep things going till you come round."
Emson shook his head sadly.
"I say it is of no use, my lad; we are trying an impossibility."
"Then let's try something else. What do you think old Morgensternsaid?"
"That we were wasting time over the ostriches."
"Well, yes, he did say that. But he said something else."
"Yes? What?"
"That he heard they were finding diamonds out on the veldt, and that heshould advise you to have a good try."
"Moonshine, boy. The other day it was gold. Do you think we should bewise in spending our days hunting for diamonds?"
Dyke scratched his ear, glanced at his brother, and then shook his head.
"Come, you are wise in that. Old Morgenstern is a good, honest, oldfellow, but it does not do to take anybody's advice on your own affairs,about which you know best yourself. There, I must not talk any more;but don't go dreaming about diamonds, little un. You and I did not comeout here to make a fortune, but to get a straightforward, honestliving."
Emson closed his eyes, and Dyke sat watching him till his regularbreathing told that he was fast asleep, and then the lad went out to goand busy himself about the place, meaning to take his gun that eveningand make for the patch of forest beyond the kopje, so as to shoot acouple or so of the guinea-fowl; but a sharp storm came on and preventedhim, though at bed-time, when he looked out, after seeing that the lioncubs and dog were curled up happily enough together, the stars wereshining brilliantly, and a dull, soft light in the east told that thefull moon would soon be up.
Five minutes later he was in his corner, feeling very drowsy, and alittle troubled in his mind about his brother's determination.
"But Joe'll think differently when he gets better," Dyke said tohimself; and then began to think whether he ought not to have watchedthe wagon.
"One can't work and watch, too," he thought as he yawned, "but I mighthave made Duke sleep in the wagon, and I will."
But he was so utterly wearied out that he kept putting off the gettingup from minute to minute, till he forgot all about it in sleep, plungingat once into a troubled dream, in which he saw his brother standing,angry and threatening with a big stick in his hand, and about to bringit down upon him with a heavy thud for neglecting their valuable stores,when he awoke to find that there was some substance in that dream.