“Ostriches.”
“Ostriches?” Big Bob could hardly believe he had heard aright. “Why, you don’t find ostriches here, do you? I thought the only ones left in Africa were the domesticated ones on South African farms.”
Ali smiled.
“They run wild in the waste places and on the desert,” he said.
“Great Scott,” cried Bob, in high excitement, a sudden thought striking him. “Can’t we break the monotony by having an ostrich hunt? Even if we don’t catch any, it’ll be fun.”
“To hunt those birds we should have horses,” said Ali, dubiously. “They run very swift. With horses, the hunters pursue them in a great circle, relays of horsemen relieving the tired ones.”
“But won’t camels do?” Bob was eager to put his scheme into effect and an appealing note crept into his voice which caused the kind-hearted Ali to smile.
“We can try,” he said. “Only you must not be too disappointed, if you see them run away from you.”
“All right,” promised Bob. “I won’t. Come on, let’s tell everybody,”
They hurried back to the encampment and Bob’s bellow quickly caused the others to assemble. Then the news was told. It aroused less enthusiasm than Bob had looked for. None of the Arabs was keen, to go, believing that with camels it would be next to impossible to run any ostrich to ground. Besides, what would they stand to profit? Ostrich meat is tough, stringy and practically inedible. The great bird’s sole good to man is to provide feathers for women’s adornment. As for Frank, he planned to put the finishing touches to the restored radio set and could not be turned aside from his project. Mr. Hampton intended to stick by his patient who was beginning to mutter in his delirium. Most of his mutterings were in Athensian, which Mr. Hampton could recognize as such but which was meaningless to him. But in the midst of Athensian words, he believed he could distinguish an occasional French word, and this puzzled and interested him.