g out the
gizzard, which he opened as a cook does that of a fowl, and exclaimed
aloud at the contents:

"Here, Jack, fetch me some water in the tin;" and while the "boy" was
gone, Dyke scraped out on to the sand quite a heap of pieces of flinty
stone, rough crystals, and some pieces of iron, rusty nails, and a
good-sized piece of hoop.

"I must have a look at you afterwards," said the boy, as he picked out
some forty or fifty of the dingy-looking rough crystals, gave them a rub
over and over in the dry sand upon which he knelt, to dry them, and then
thrust them--a good handful--into his pocket.

"Do for the collection," he said to himself with a laugh. "Label:
crystals of quartz, discovered in a goblin's gizzard by Vandyke Emson,
Esquire, F.A.S., Kopfontein, South Africa."

"Wanterwater?"

"Yes, I do `wanterwater,'" cried Dyke, turning sharply on the Kaffir,
who had returned. "I want to wash my hands. Look at 'em, Jack!"

"Narcy!" said the man, making a grimace.

"Hold hard, though; let's have a drink first," cried the boy. "It looks
clean;" and raising the tin, he took a deep draught before using the
vessel for a good wash, taking a handful of sand in the place of soap.

"Find the knife?" said Emson, coming back from the stable.

"No, but look here," cried Dyke, pointing to the great piece of
hoop-iron. "Fancy a bird swallowing that."

"Iron is good for birds, I suppose," said Emson quietly.--"Here, Jack,
drag that bird right away off; remember, a good way. Mind, I don't want
the jackals too close to-night."

The Kaffir nodded, seized the bird's legs as if they were the shafts of
a cart or handles of a wheelbarrow.

The load was heavy, though, and he shook his head, with reason, for such
a bird weighed three hundred pounds, and it spoke well for its leg
muscles that it could go at the rate of forty or fifty miles an hour.

"Too big," grumbled Jack; so Dyke seized one of the legs, and together
they walked away with the dead bird, dragging it quite a quarter of a
mile out beyond the ostrich-pens, ready for the jackals to come and play
scavenger. After which Dyke returned to his brother, and they went in
to where Tanta Sal, Jack's wife, had prepared a substantial meal.

CHAPTER FIVE.

BIG BIRDNESTING.

"You're a dissatisfied young dog, Dyke," cried Joe Emson
good-humouredly, as he smiled down from his high horse at his brother;
"always grumbling."

"I'm not," cried Dyke indignantly.

"Yo