ne and then the other, and so set over the round
faster. I could do it in a third of the time."

But he shook his head wearily as he glanced at where Emson lay.

"I dare not leave him to them. I should never see him again alive."

It was quite plain: the Kaffirs had marked down the baas for dead, and
unless watched, they would not trouble themselves to try to save him by
moving a hand.

Dyke shuddered, for if he were absent he felt the possibility of one of
the strangers he had seen, helping them so as to share or rob. No: he
dared not go.

But could he not have the wagon made comfortable, store it with
necessaries, get Emson lifted in, and then drive the oxen himself?

It took no consideration. It would be madness, he felt, to attempt such
a thing. It would be fatal at once, he knew; and, besides, he dared not
take the sick man on such a journey without being sure that he would be
received at the house at the journey's end.

No: that was impossible.

Another thought. It was evident that Jack was determined not to go back
alone to Morgenstern's, but would it be possible to send a more faithful
messenger--the dog? He had read of dogs being sent to places with
despatches attached to their collars. Why should not Duke go? He knew
the way, and once made to understand--

Dyke shook his head. It was too much to expect. The journey was too
long. How was the dog to be protected from wild beasts at night, and
allowing that he could run the gauntlet of those dangers, how was the
poor brute to be fed?

"No, no, no," cried the boy passionately; "it is too much to think. It
is fate, and I must see Joe through it myself. He is better, I am
sure."

There was every reason for thinking so, and nurturing the hope that his
brother had taken the turn, Dyke determined to set to work and go on as
if all was well--just as if Emson were about and seeing to things
himself.

"You know I wouldn't neglect you, old chap," he said affectionately, as
he bent over the couch and gazed in the sunken features; "I shall be
close by, and will keep on coming in."

Then a thought struck him, and he called the watchful dog away and fed
him, before sending him back to the bedside, and going out to examine
the ostriches more closely.

Dyke's heart sank as he visited pen after pen. Either from neglect or
disease, several of the birds had died, and were lying about the place,
partly eaten by jackals; while of the young ones hatche