“At home, shut up in pens, but not on the veldt.”
“Why, of course they do, and ’tis their nature to, like the bears and lions in Dr Watts. You don’t know everything quite yet, old chap. If you took the glass, and came and lay out here for two or three days and nights, and always supposing the birds didn’t see you—because if they did they’d be deserting the nest and go somewhere else—you’d see first one hen come to lay and then another, perhaps six of them; and when they’d packed the nest as full as it would hold, with the sand banked up round the eggs to keep them tight in their places with the points downwards, so as to be close, you’d see hen after hen come and take her turn, sitting all day, while the cock bird comes at nights and takes his turn, because he’s bigger and stronger, and better able to pitch into the prowling jackals.”
“How did you know all this, Joe?”
“Partly observation, partly from what I’ve heard Jack say,” replied Emson modestly. “Everything comes in useful. I daresay you won’t repent saving up all those odds and ends of stones and shells and eggs you’ve got at home.”
“Why, I often thought you’d feel they were a nuisance, Joe. I did see you laugh at them more than once.”
“Smile, old man, smile—that’s all. I like it. You might grow a regular museum out of small beginnings like that.”
“Then we ought to have stuffed the goblin,” cried Dyke merrily.
“Oh, come, no; that wouldn’t do. Our tin house isn’t the British Museum; but I would go on collecting bits of ore and things. You may find something worth having one of these days, besides picking up a lot of knowledge. I’d put that piece of old iron the ostrich swallowed along with the rest.”
“Would you?”
“Yes; but now let’s have all eyes, and no tongues, old chap. We are getting near where that bird got up off the nest.”