speed, and they jogged gently along
again.

"I always used to read that the ostriches did lay their eggs in the sand
and leave them for the sun to hatch."

"There is some truth in it," said Emson; "but the old writers didn't get
to the bottom of it. The sun would hatch them if it kept on shining,
but the cold nights would chill the eggs and undo all the day's work.
It's of a night that the birds sit closest.--Like to change now?"

"Yes: they are getting heavy for one's wrist," said Dyke; and the great
purse was lowered to the ground, the eggs clicking together as if made
of china. Then the brothers changed places and hands; raised the net;
the horses hung apart again, and the slow journey was resumed.

"Gently!" cried Dyke before they had gone very far. "If you hang away
so hard, I shall be dragged out of the saddle."

The tension was relaxed, and they went on again riding by slow degrees
back to Kopfontein, which they finally reached with their heavy and
fragile load intact.

Dyke was hungry enough, but they neither ate nor rested till their eggs
were borne into one of the pens where three hens and their husband had a
nest which contained only ten eggs, and these were known to be addled,
for the time was long past for hatching; and upon the brothers
approaching the nest, there was a great deal of hissing and cackling,
the cock bird beginning to roar like a lion, and stalking menacingly
round the net, which he kept on inspecting curiously.

"Be on the lookout for a kick," said Emson, as the net was lowered.

"Oh, he won't kick me--will you, old chap?" cried Dyke, giving the large
bird a playful poke, which had the effect of sending him off
remonstrating angrily, as if he resented such liberties being taken with
his ribs. For he turned when he reached the fence, and stood fluttering
his short wings, clucking, and making threatening gestures with his
head.

The hen bird sitting was much more amenable to their approach, for,
after a little persuasion, she rose in a very stately way, blinked her
rather human-looking, eye-lashed optics, and stalked to the other wives
to stand with them, hissing and cackling a little, while the bad eggs
were removed and the fresh thirty-nine were put in their place, Emson
arranging them as regularly as he could in accordance with the bird's
habits.

But as Dyke handed them to him one by one, they had hard work to get
them in on account of the impatience displayed by the wives,