d from the nest
of eggs brought home with such high hopes, not one was left.

"Poor Joe!" sighed Dyke, as he looked round despondently, and thought of
his brother's words, which, broken and incoherent as they were, told of
the disappointment and bitterness which had followed the long, weary
trial of his experiment.

And now, with the poor fellow broken down and completely helpless, the
miserable dead birds, the wretched look of those still living, and the
general neglect, made Dyke feel ready to turn away in despair.

But he set his teeth hard and went about with a fierce energy
rearranging the birds in their pens, and generally working as if this
were all a mere accident that only wanted putting straight, for
everything to go on prosperously in the future.

It was hard work, feeling, as Dyke did, that it was a hopeless task, and
that a complete change--a thorough new beginning--must be made for there
to be the slightest chance for success. But he kept on, the task
becoming quite exciting when the great birds turned restive or showed
fight, and a disposition to go everywhere but where they were wanted.

Then he fetched Jack, who came unwillingly, acting as if he believed
some new scheme was about to be tried to send him off to the old
trader's. But he worked better when he found that he was only to drag
away the remains of one or two dead birds, and to fetch water and do a
little more cleaning.

Dyke divided his time between seeing that the work was done, and going
to and fro to his brother's couch, now feeling hopeful as he fancied
that he was sleeping more easily. At the second visit, too, his hopes
grew more strong; but at the third they went down to zero, for to his
horror the heat flush and violent chill returned with terrible delirium,
and the boy began to blame himself for not doing something more about
getting a doctor, for Emson seemed to be worse than he was at his
return.

By degrees, though, it dawned upon him that this might not be a sign of
going back, only a peculiarity of malarial fever, in some forms of which
he knew that the sufferer had regular daily fits, which lasted for a
certain time and then passed away, leaving the patient exhausted, but
better.

This might be one of these attacks, he felt, and he sat watching and
trying to give relief; but in vain, for the delirium increased, and the
symptoms looked as bad as they could be, for a man to live.

And now once more the utter helplessn