"'Whosoever climbeth up by the wall into the sheepfold, the same is a
thief and a robber.'"
Out of bed he jumped, shouting, "Father! Father!" At the same moment,
Jack's grand pet, the tame ostrich Vickel, set up a loud noisy scream.
Vickel, as Jack's father had often said, was as good a guard as a
mastiff. She had been given to Jack when she was a three days' chicken,
looking like a round ball of dirty yellow fluff, and he had fed her
with his own hands every day; and now as she stretched out her long
neck she seemed as tall as the porch. She was crying "Thief! thief!"
in her bird fashion, as plainly as any English watch-dog would growl
"Thief!" to his master.
Jack's father was out of bed in an instant, with his rifle in his hand,
just as the last black figure dropped over the wall into the sheepfold.
He fired his rifle into the air, hoping the sound of the report might
scare away the thieves, and began to dress in all haste.
"Keep where you are, my boy," he said, "and on no account leave the
house. Put the bar in the bedroom door as soon as I am gone. I'll shut
Vickel in the outer room, and she'll keep everybody else from coming
in. Be a brave boy, and just lie still until I return."
"I'll be as still as a mouse, father; but hadn't I better get into my
jacket?" answered Jack.
"Yes, dress," returned his father; "only be still."
Mr. Treby reloaded his rifle and crept out.
Presently, Jack heard the brush of Vickel's wings as she made the tour
of their sitting-room.
"Don't do mischief, Vickel," gasped Jack with a catch in his breath
very suggestive of tears; but he choked them back with all his might.
He stood with his little hands clasped tightly together, watching
through the window, yet not near enough to it to be seen from without.
He saw his father creep cautiously along, in the shadow of the
farm-yard wall, towards the great open shed where the oxen were
tethered, and saw him climb into the heavy broad-wheeled waggon, which
was drawn under one end, to shelter it from the sun. Now that Mr. Treby
was mounted in the waggon, where he could see and not be seen, Jack
felt easier. He thought of his dying mother's words, "In every trouble,
pray;" and kneeling down at the bedside, he whispered,—
"Save, Lord, or we perish—"
When the flash and report of his father's rifle seemed to shake the
house. The oxen bellowed and tore the ground in their infuriated
terror. Jack started to his feet and ran to the window.
"Maw wah!" groaned the old Hottentot, who was crouching under the
eaves, and caught sight of Jack's pale face. "He'll take 'em as they
come out," he whispered, making emphatic signs to the boy to go back.
Jack knew that he must not let himself be seen. He remembered his
father's charge, and moved away! What happened next he could not
tell. There was a shout of savage glee, a wild, unintelligible yell.
Vickel screamed like mad. A sudden light without—a strange, oppressive
heat—and then a dense smoke began to fill the room.
Jack dipped the towel in the water-jug and put it over his head, for
bright red sparks began to fall between the rafters.
"Father! Father!" he shrieked, forgetting his promise to be still in
this unthought-of danger.
The ostrich heard his piteous cry, and split the door between them
with her powerful beak. Then Jack drew out the bar and let her in. She
flew past him, and in her frantic efforts to escape dashed against the
window, smashing glass and frame to atoms. Jack drove her with all
speed through the flying splinters. She was almost out of the window,
when the glare from the blaring roof so frightened her that she drew
back with a scream. After wheeling round and round the room, Vickel
tucked her head under her wing like a true ostrich, as if shutting her
eyes to the danger she could no longer escape would save her.
Jack was so well used to Vickel's ways that he knew he could catch her
now easily enough. He had seen his father throw a fishing-net over her
and haul her off when she was doing mischief in the garden. He managed
to pull the blanket off his bed and throw it over her; but his limbs
were heavy, and he felt like one moving in a dream.
At last he heard his father calling, in an agony of desperation, "My
boy! My boy! Heaven help me! Where's my boy?"
"Here, father, here," Jack tried to answer, but his voice sounded
feeble and strange even in his own ears. Things were falling all around
him. Lights were flashing, and confused noises rang in his head. He
was going, going somewhere. Then the dreadful feeling of oppression
lightened, and he knew that the strong arms which clasped him so
tightly were his father's.
Something he murmured about getting a hood for Vickel, as his father
lifted him through the broken window and gave him to the Hottentot.
Once in the open air, Jack began to revive. The Hottentot laid him
under the garden hedge, and charging him not to cry, ran back to help
his master.
Poor little Jack gazed at the blazing roof with a bewildered face, as
his senses slowly returned to him. Suddenly it flashed upon his mind
that his father was still in the burning house, and staggering to his
feet, he tottered round the garden. He was just in time to see Vickel,
who was still enveloped in the blanket, hauled out of the bedroom
window, as if she had been a sack of wheat. Like himself, she was
stupefied by the smoke, or it would not have been so easy to save her.
"Drag her away!" shouted his father, as one of the great black chests
was hoisted into the opening.
The Hottentot tugged at the ends of the blanket. Down came the heavy
chest with a thud, and Jack's father sprang on to the window-sill, with
his face as black as a Kafir's and his shirt sleeves in a blaze. He
threw himself on the ground and rolled over and over.
The Hottentot snatched the blanket from Vickel's head and wrapped it
round his master. Between them the flames were soon extinguished; for
Mr. Treby seized some heavy sods, that were lying in a heap where he
had been digging the day before, and crushed the burning shirt beneath
them, plunging his arms into the midst of the heap.
What could poor Jack be thinking of when he saw his father burrowing in
the ground, and the Hottentot twisting the blanket round and round his
shoulders, as if he were about to choke him? For he ran away!