“So!” said the boy, throwing himself into a peculiar attitude, and holding up one arm with the hand bent down, so that side-wise his figure took something of the aspect of the long-necked bird.
“Then the ostrich must have been stupid,” cried Jack, laughing.
“Yes, ’tupid bird,” said Chicory, grinning. “Never be ’tupid any more. Come fetch him.”
The horses were soon ready, and they were about to start when Dinny expressed a desire to go.
“Shure, I haven’t sthretched me legs these three days, Masther Dick, dear, and I wouldn’t mind exercising one of the big horses if the Masther loiked.”
But “the masther” didn’t “loike,” not feeling disposed to trust a valuable animal to Dinny’s tender mercies; so that gentleman turned upon his heel, and went back to the waggon-fire in disgust, and sat over it to “warrum” himself, though every one else was complaining of the heat.
It was a long ride, but Chicory did not seemed tired. He laid hold of the mane of Dick’s or Jack’s horse, and ran easily along by the side. And had there been any doubt of the spot in which the game lay, the vultures going straight in one direction would have pointed it out.
The sun was getting very low as they neared the place to which Chicory pointed; and when they came up a perfect crowd of vultures rose, having been seated at a respectful distance, watching the bower of sticks with which Chicory had surrounded his prize.
It proved to be a full-grown ostrich, but it was in wretched plumage, and a little examination showed that there was a reason for Chicory’s success, the bird having been shot at and a good deal injured.
It was such a miserable object that it would have been left behind had not the little party known that the General wanted it for a particular purpose; so it was strapped on to the back of Mr Rogers’s saddle, to the great discomfort of the big bay, which immediately began to kick furiously.