The Fire Trumpet Part 7

"Oh, you odious wretch," cried Ethel, apostrophising the bird. "Mr Hicks, can't we give the poor hen some all to herself?"

"Behold the way of the world," said a voice behind her. "Every man for himself and--but I won't finish the saw."

She turned, and there was Claverton. A cherrywood pipe was in his mouth, and with one hand thrust carelessly into the pocket of a loose shooting-coat, he stood regarding her from beneath his broad-brimmed hat, looking the very personification of coolness and unconcern.

The sight of him angered her, but a thrill of malicious satisfaction shot through her, as she thought of the rude shock she would inflict upon that provoking imperturbability before he was an hour older.

"So you come down from the stool of repentance without permission," she said, severely.

"Couldn't stop away any longer," he replied, without removing his careless glance from her face. "Besides, your sister absolved me in your name."

"Then you may stay," she said, graciously, turning to look at the ostriches. The male bird was about fifty yards off, reluctant to leave the spot, and rolling his fiery eye towards them with a frequency that showed he had not quite given up all hopes of making mincemeat of some one of the party that day.

"Mr Claverton," suddenly exclaimed Ethel, even more graciously. "Do get me those red flowers over there, the ones on the long stalks."

"With pleasure," he answered, coming to her side. "Indicate them."

"There they are, those under that bush."

She pointed out ten or a dozen wiry-looking stalks with a few red blossoms that would not have overburdened one of them, but were injudiciously distributed amongst the group, which sprouted amid the undergrowth in a small clump of thorn-bushes right in the enclosure. To reach it about seventy yards of open ground, dest.i.tute of all cover save for a single mimosa bush growing half-way, must needs be traversed.

"Hold on, let's get the bird away first," said Jim, moving off with that intent.

"Never mind the bird, Jim, he won't interfere with me," quietly answered Claverton; and without even pocketing his pipe he climbed deliberately over the wall.

"Don't go, Arthur. Good gracious, he'll be killed!" cried Mrs Brathwaite, in dire trepidation. "Ethel, how could you?"

"No he won't, auntie; you'll see him run in a minute as for dear life.

I wanted to make him run," she added in a low tone, with a mischievous, scornful laugh.

I know of no more perfect exemplification of the old adage about familiarity breeding contempt than the case of the fall-grown male ostrich. In his wild state the most timid and wary of creatures, he is up and away the moment you appear on the skyline, and fleetness and endurance must be the character of your mount if you hope to overtake him. In a state of domesticity, however, his aggressiveness and pugnacity know no bounds. He will charge anything or everything, resistance only adding to his blind ferocity--and when it is understood that a single stroke of his sharp h.o.r.n.y toe--for he kicks down, not out--will shatter a man's skull, not to mention the possibility of a broken limb, it will not be difficult for the reader to realise that this gigantic fowl is a particularly awkward customer to deal with. Of course the bird is easily killed, or disabled, a very moderate blow from a stick being sufficient to break its leg. But it must be remembered that the creature is, so to say, worth its weight in gold, and any one would think more than, twice before slaying so valuable a possession, even in self-defence. So it is manifest that the expedition upon which Claverton had now embarked was by no means free from the element of peril.

Once over the wall he walked coolly forward, seeming altogether to ignore his foe's existence. The ostrich, however, was by no means disposed to take matters so quietly, for before he had gone fifteen paces it bore down upon him with a savage hiss; but a couple of light bounds brought him to the small bash above mentioned, where he was safe for the moment. For the moment, because it was only a question which of the two would tire first, and they dodged each other round the precarious shelter which was only half-way to his destination.

Soon, however, besieger and besieged alike came to a complete standstill, and the situation began to wax rather monotonous. Then the ostrich, withdrawing a couple of yards, dropped down on its shanks, and contorting its neck, and at the same time fluttering its wings in defiance, produced a curious drumming noise, of which grotesque challenge its human antagonist took not the slightest notice, but waited on as calmly as ever. Suddenly it sprang up, and uttering its trumpet-like hiss, dashed right through the bush at him; then, while it was still blundering among the thorns, Claverton started off upon the remainder of his journey. This he could have accomplished with ease and safety, but that above all he intended to do it quietly. He knew why Ethel had sent him in there as well as she did herself, and that astute young lady should not have the pleasure of seeing him routed, or enjoying a laugh at his expense. Consequently he had not covered more than half the distance that remained to him, at a quick but easy walk, when the ostrich, now simply infuriate by reason of a few p.r.i.c.ks from the sharp mimosa thorns, which had penetrated even its tough hide, was upon him. And very huge and formidable looked the ferocious bird, as, rearing itself up to its full height, its jetty plumage erect and bristling, its eye glaring, and its fiery red bill wide open, it rushed upon Claverton, hissing like a fiend. No cover was at hand; there he stood in the open, completely at the mercy of his savage a.s.sailant.

In vain Jim and Hicks ran into the enclosure shouting, to draw off the creature's attention; it manifested a fell fixity of purpose, from which it was not to be turned aside by any such puerile tricks. Mrs Brathwaite grew pale, and averted her head; even Ethel now saw that she had carried her practical joke rather too far; but still her gaze was riveted upon the combatants with a strange, eager fascination.

But Claverton's coolness always stood him in good stead. He suddenly advanced a couple of paces, thus forestalling the attack, and seizing his powerful antagonist by the lower part of the neck, swung himself nimbly aside, just managing to avoid a kick that would probably have ripped him up, and held on firmly to the creature's throat, half choking it. It plunged and stamped, its great feet going all the time like sledge-hammers, and to hold on was just as much as he could do, for it was as powerful as a horse. But hold on he did as for dear life; then, watching his opportunity, he flung himself off, and before the bird, half-dazed, had recovered from the effects of the choking it had received, he stood safe within the friendly shelter of the clump of bush, somewhat used up, but uninjured, except that his right hand was torn and bleeding from contact with the bird's claw. His pursuer, indisposed to venture again among thorns, walked quickly up and down before the entrance to the cover, flicking its wings about in baffled wrath at the unaccountable escape of its victim.

The first thing he did was to gather every one of the flowers he had come for. Then the spectators could see him standing against a tree doing something with a pencil and the back of an envelope.

"Hallo! what on earth are you up to now?" called out Jim. "Tell us when you're ready, and we'll get the bird away."

"By no means," was the reply. "I'm making a rough sketch of the situation, now that I'm master of the same. Then you may call it a drawing by one of the Masters."

This sally provoked a laugh from all but Ethel. She was silent. To tell the truth, she was rather ashamed of herself.

In a few moments he put away his pencil and paper, and set to work to cut a couple of large thorn branches. This done, he issued forth from his refuge to return. The ostrich, apparently tired of the turn affairs had taken, had drawn off a little way; but no sooner was he in the open than it charged him again. This time, however, it was out of its reckoning; the _chevaux de frise_ of thorns that Claverton held before him was not to be got over. With a powerful kick or two it beat down the branch, which, however, was immediately replaced by the other, and kick and hiss as it would, it could not get rid of the formidable array of p.r.i.c.kly thorns which met its breast and unprotected neck whenever it pressed on to the attack. At last, convinced of the futility of the undertaking, the savage bird turned round and trotted away about fifty yards, and there stood, looking the picture of sullen defeat. Its cool opponent walked leisurely to the wall, and, abandoning his valuable means of defence, climbed over and joined the party.

"By Jove, but you did that well," said Jim. "Why, man, I expected to see you most awfully mauled."

"I don't know. 'Needs must where the'--but I won't finish that quotation, either. Here are the flowers, Miss Brathwaite," he said, handing her the innocent cause of all the pother. "By the way, Hicks, I forgot to tell you as I came down that there's been a porcupine in the mealie-land during the night. We might set the spring-gun for him, eh?"

"Rather! We'll set it this evening," said Hicks, gleefully, his instincts of destructiveness coming again to the fore.

That evening, between nine and ten o'clock, they were all sitting indoors. Jim had left in the afternoon to return to the bosom of his family, after making them all promise to ride over in a day or two.

Suddenly a dull, heavy report was heard.

"_Pace_ the porcupine," remarked Claverton.

"I say," sputtered Hicks in his eagerness, "let's go down and see if we've got him. We might set the gun again, you know, in case another came."

"Let's all go," cried Ethel. "I'm dying to see the result of our trap-setting. Yes, _our_ trap-setting, Mr Hicks--you know you'd have put that trigger too stiff if it hadn't been for me."

"But, my dear child," feebly protested Mrs Brathwaite, "the gra.s.s is as wet as it can be, and--"

"And--there's a path all the way down, and--it's a lovely night--and-- you're a dear old auntie--and--we're going," she replied, with a hug and a kiss; then darting into the other room reappeared, looking inexpressibly killing, with a light-blue shawl thrown carelessly over her golden head.

"Well, then, don't be too long, and don't get into any mischief.

Arthur, I shall look upon you as the responsible person. Keep them in order," said the old lady, with her kindly smile.

"All right, Mrs Brathwaite, I'll keep them well in hand, I promise you."

"And--Arthur--just shy that old porcupine up in the air once or twice for Hicks to practise at," sang out Mr Brathwaite jocosely as they left the room.

It was a perfect night, the moon was at half, and the whole earth slept in silence beneath its mantle of silver sheen, for a heavy dew had fallen. A gra.s.s fire or two shone forth redly upon the slopes of the far Amatola. Not a breath stirred the air, save for the faintest suspicion of a cool zephyr which now and again partly dispelled the light clouds of blue smoke which ascended from Claverton's pipe. Hicks and Laura were on in front. Suddenly Ethel stopped.

"Mr Claverton," she said. "Do you know I've been feeling quite ashamed of myself all day?"

"What about?" asked her companion.

"Why, for sending you after those wretched flowers this morning--I didn't mean you to get hurt, you know; of course I thought you would easily be able to run away."

"I see. But running away isn't altogether in my line--I don't mean under any circ.u.mstances--those who declaim most against the lawfulness of leg-bail at a push are generally the ones most p.r.o.ne to putting it to the test. In fact, I don't mind telling you that I have 'run away'

before now, having no alternative."

"When I saw that dreadful creature coming at you, I declare I would have given anything not to have sent you in there. It was horrible." And she shivered. "Do forgive me."

"But I a.s.sure you the whole affair was fun to me. Keeps one in training for emergencies. Only--"

"Only what?"

"Only that I don't know whether your uncle quite likes his prize ostrich being made the subject of a bull-fight."

"And--we are friends?"

"I hope so."