“And I!” echoed Groot Willem.
“Now,” continued Jan, “he’s going on to the nest—he has reached it, and is walking round and round, and stooping and kicking with his feet. I can’t tell what he’s about—can you, Klaas?”
“I think,” replied Klaas, “he’s trying to cover up the broken shells we left there.”
“Oh! that’s exactly it!” said Jan. “See! he’s stooping over the nest, he has lifted an egg in his hand!”
It is to be remembered that only the fresh eggs were brought away in the morning. Those in the nest that had undergone hatching were of course let alone—all except one or two, that had been broken to “try” them.
“He’s coming back this way,” said Jan. “He has the egg in his hand! Now he has put it down right under the snout of the fox!”
“Ha!” ejaculated Hans, Groot Willem, and Hendrik, “how cunning of old Swart!”
“Now,” continued Jan, “he’s back to the bush: and now he’s squatted down behind it.”
After a little while both Klaas and Jan announced that Swartboy was making no further movements, but continued to lie quietly.
Now the secret of Swartboy’s strategy lay in his knowledge of a fact in natural history,—a knowledge of the antipathy that exists between the ostrich and the egg-eating fox. Swartboy’s experience had taught him the habits of the fennec, and also the hostile feeling of the ostrich towards this enemy. So strong is this feeling on the part of the bird, that whenever it sets its eye upon one of these creatures it will run directly towards it, for the purpose of destroying it. On such occasions the speed of the quadruped will not save it. Unless its burrow be nigh, or some thick bush or cleft among the rocks offer it a shelter, a single kick from the legs of the mighty bird at once puts an end to its prowling existence.