ng merrily as
he 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 unladen
wagon, 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 vexed
tone of voice; "but I can't do everything, and feeding those cubs last
night made me forget to set Duke to watch."

Then a thought struck him, and he put his head outside the tilt and
shouted for Tant, who came running up, and at once climbed into the
wagon.

"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;" and
making up his mind to watch that night, he went back to the house, had a
few words with his brother, and then went round to see that all was
right, coming back to breakfast after Tanta had shown him the lioness's
skin pegged out to dry.

Dyke watched that night, but in vain; Duke watched the next night also
in vain, for there had been too much to do for the wagon to be emptied
and 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 satisfaction
day by day of seeing him grow slightly better; while the Kaffir woman
was indefatigable, and never seemed to sleep, Dyke's difficulty being to
keep her from making the patient travel in a retrograde path by giving
him too much to eat.

"Baas Joe muss plenty meat, tea, coffee," she said. "No eat, Baas Joe
die."

Hence Dyke had hard work to keep the larder supplied. Fortunately,
however, the guinea-fowls' roosting place proved to be almost
inexhaustible, 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 to
stew down, so that the patient did not fare so badly, as his returning
strength showed.

But progress with the ostrich-farm was at a standstill, and Dyke used to
look at the great stilt-stalking birds with a sorrowful air, and wish
they were all running wild.

"But you are getting better fast, Joe," he said one evening as he sat by
the couch.

"Getting better slowly, not fast, little un," replied Emson sadly.
"Heaven knows how I pray for strength, s