They had got within less than five hundred yards; and, with guns ready, were resolved to give him a tail-on-end chase, and try a flying shot, when, to their tremendous surprise, a loud and terrified yell came from the bird, and the next moment his skin flew from his shoulders, discovering, not a naked ostrich, but a naked Bushman, with his legs chalked white to the very hips! That Bushman was Swartboy!
It was, indeed, old Swart dressed up in the skin of the old cock he had lately shot with his poisoned arrow; and it was that same arrow, or half-a-dozen like it, that had been causing the mysterious movements among the ostriches. Five of them already lay around dead or dying; while the two hens, that had not yet received their billet, during the surprise consequent on Swartboy revealing himself, had managed to escape.
Fortunately for Swartboy he “sung out” at the moment he did. Another half minute, and he would have fared no better than his own victims the ostriches. He acknowledged that he had been badly “scared.” In looking after the ostriches, he had never thought of looking for any thing else; and from the manner in which his eyes were placed under the feathers, he could not see very well around. His ears, too, “muffled” up as they were within the skin of the old cock, were of little service to him; so that it was by mere accident he saw the horsemen galloping down upon him. Even then it cost an effort to “cast” his skin, and appear in propria persona!
Now, when the young yägers thought of the curious incident that had just taken place, and then looked at the naked body of Swartboy, chalked white from hip to heel, the whole six sat in their saddles and laughed till their very sides ached.
Swartboy, proud of his achievement, looked round him like a conqueror, and then fixing his eyes upon his rival, put the simple but equivocal interrogatory—
“Eh! Congo! ole Kaffir boy! dat you?”
The carapace was eclipsed!