It was a furious combat while it lasted, and a noble enemy had been subdued, for this lion, besides being magnificent of aspect even in death, measured full twelve feet from the point of his nose to the tip of his tail.
Chapter Thirteen.
Adventure with an Ostrich.
Time passed rapidly, and the settlers, both highland and lowland, struck their roots deeper and deeper into the soil of their adoption—watched and criticised more or less amiably by their predecessors, the few Dutch-African farmers who up to that time had struggled on the frontier all alone.
One day Hans Marais was riding with Charlie Considine on the karroo, not far from the farm-house. They had been conversing on the condition and prospects of the land, and the trials and difficulties of the British settlers. Suddenly they came on an ostrich sitting on its eggs under a bush. The bird rose and ran on seeing the horsemen.
“I daresay the cock-bird is not far off,” observed Hans, riding up to the nest, which was merely a slight hollow scraped in the sandy soil, and contained a dozen eggs. “He is a gallant bird; guards his wife most faithfully, and shares her duties.”
“I’ve sometimes thought,” said Considine musingly, “that the ostrich might be tamed and bred on your farms. With such valuable feathers it would be worth while to try.”
“You are not the first who has suggested that, Charlie. My own mother has more than once spoken of it.”