re some
ostriches in the field, but you don't need to mind them, for they are
quite young, although full-grown."

It is a common custom among South Africans to take a nap in the heat of
the day during summer. They dine early, and the power of the sun at
that part of the day renders work almost impossible. I could not at
first fall in with this custom; therefore, while the family retired, I
took my sketch-book and colours and went off to the field.

There was a mound, whence I could obtain a good view of the house with
its surroundings, the cattle-kraal or enclosure, the course of the
little stream, with one of the small dams or lakelets, and the garden,
the whole backed by the blue mountain range on the horizon.

The sun was blazing fiercely, but, as before remarked, I delight in
heat. Selecting a stone I sat down, opened my book and colour-box, and
began. To those who don't know it, I may say that sketching is a most
fascinating and engrossing species of work. I soon forgot where I was,
forgot Hobson, forgot time, forgot every thing in fact except the
glowing face of nature, when a sound recalled me. I looked round and
observed eight or ten huge ostriches stalking towards me with slow
funereal gait. I felt somewhat uneasy,--for their youth, of which
Hobson had assured me, was in no way indicated by their huge bodies and
dreadful legs. However, I had taken the precaution to carry my forked
stick, and drawing it nearer continued at my work with an easier mind.
If they meant war I knew escape to be hopeless, for the nearest wall was
a quarter of a mile off.

The females halted at a respectful distance, but two of the largest
black males came stalking close up to me and stood still, gazing
intently, first with one eye, then with the other, at a distance of
about six yards.

Meanwhile some of the females sat down, and one of them put herself in
an attitude so absurd that I introduced her into the drawing. Presently
the largest male advanced a little nearer, and kept somewhat behind me.
This was embarrassing. It occurred to me that, in the art of war, an
attacking party is supposed to have the advantage of one that is
assaulted. I therefore rose, brought my fork to the charge, and went at
the bird with a furious roar. It turned and ran a few yards, but
stopped when I stopped, and began to return slowly, as before, the
moment I had sat down. As it drew nearer I observed that it eyed my
colour-box curiously.