SQUELCHED BY AN OSTRICH.
Unlike Bob, Jack after leaving Ali took cautious observations from time
to time to enable him to keep the ostrich herd in sight. He realized the
possibility of being deflected from his course in passing behind the
sand dunes, but by frequent halts when he would compel his camel to
kneel and, retaining the long led rope so as to prevent the animal’s
wandering, climb to the top of a sand dune, and lying there, swing his
glasses on the distant birds, he managed to make a wide arc about the
herd without going astray.
When a half hour had elapsed, he rose into sight as agreed and a moment
later saw, through his glasses, Ali making for the ostrich herd. Then he
swung his glasses again over the horizon in the direction where Bob was
supposed to have taken post. But he was unable to see any sign of his
comrade.
A somewhat higher mass of dunes far off the course and more distant
caught his eye, and he entertained the fleeting thought that, perhaps,
Bob in wandering behind the sand dunes had gotten mixed up among the
distant hills. But he had little time for reflection because at that
moment he saw Ali start off in pursuit of the ostrich nearest him who,
seeing his approach, headed away fleetly into the desert.
Jack’s first impulse was to dash forward and join in the chase himself,
but he remembered Ali’s caution and held his position. Ali’s camel was
on a tangent to the flight of the ostrich, and Jack could see his
companion’s intention was to head off the big bird and chase it toward
him. In the meantime, the more distant members of the herd, a dozen
great birds, had taken alarm and were galloping away on a course that
lay midway between Ali and Jack, whom apparently they had now sighted.
What a picture it all made, thought Jack. For a while, he sat his camel,
lost in admiration of the sight. The vast waving floor of the desert,
with here and there low clumps of bush; the great birds, black-bodied,
beautiful under the flood of golden, dazzling sunlight, fleeing fleetly
in twenty-five foot bounds; apart from his fellows the one great
ostrich, gradually drawing closer to Jack, with the ungainly camel
humping along in the rear and to one side, continually turning the
ostrich so he could not gain the open desert behind Jack’s camel.
In the midst of his absorption, Jack started. Was that a shot? He
listened. But no repetition came. So faint had been the sound that,
perhaps, his ears had deceived him. Certainly, if it were a shot it
could come only from Bob, yet Bob was not in sight. And just as
certainly as Bob would shoot, if he were lost, he would fire a whole
volley. Jack listened with strained attention. Not a sound. He swept the
whole northern horizon, in the direction Bob had taken, with his
glasses.
What was that on the far sand dunes? On those slightly higher hills? A
sudden, quick uptossing movement, and then nothing further. He gazed
fixedly at the spot, but without reward.
A sudden shout from Ali recalled Jack to his surroundings. Great Scott,
what was that! Yes, Ali’s camel had stumbled and pitched to its knees,
and Ali had been thrown forward onto the sand. And the ostrich! What in
the world was it doing?
“Lie down, Ali, lie down,” screamed Jack, remembering his father’s
warning of what a man must do if attacked by an ostrich.
For the great bird which Ali had been pursuing had turned in wild fury
and was dashing headlong for the fallen man, literally skimming the
earth, seeming to touch it only at long intervals. Jack knew the ostrich
cannot use its wings to fly, and employs them only to aid to pivot and
make sharp turnings or to bring its body to a sudden halt. But the great
bounds made by the creature gave it the semblance of flight.
Jack’s face went white. Ali’s camel had scrambled to its feet and was
heading back across the desert toward the distant oasis. Ali lay still,
outspread on his face. Was he knocked out by the fall, or had he adopted
the customary attitude of hunters when attacked by an ostrich? Jack
could not tell.
One more swoop the ostrich took, and then it folded its great legs
beneath it and sat down on Ali’s body. Only the man’s feet and lower
legs projected. The big bird’s body covered even his head, and Jack knew
he must act quickly or Ali would be smothered.
He was less than a thousand yards distant and well within the range of
his Winchester, but so nervous was Jack, his hands shook so much, that
he decided to approach closer before venturing a shot.
As he moved up, the ostrich began to hiss. A strange hissing note it
was, with the beak not opened and the air from the bird’s lungs swelling
its throat and flowing over the vocal organs. Still it continued to
maintain its position on Ali.
Now was the time. Jack knew it was up to him to save Ali’s life, and the
thought exerted a steadying influence. He lifted his rifle, took careful
aim, and pressed the trigger. He had aimed not at the body, for he
feared that, unless struck in the heart, the ostrich would not be
killed. Then it would writhe convulsively, and its movements would
increase Ali’s danger. Instead, he aimed at the small head.
The next moment, he saw the head droop like the head of a flower broken
from the stem but still hanging by a shred. Then the great bird fell
over on its side, and twitched while its long legs kicked convulsively.
Ali rolled quickly away, turning over and over, instead of first
regaining his feet. By the time Jack arrived, Ali was on his feet and
composedly shaking sand from his burnoose and straightening his turban.
The swarthy face with its gleaming black eyes and black mustache, was
filled with gratitude as Jack approached.
“You saved my life,” said Ali. “I’ll not forget.”
They looked at the body of the great bird, which lay still. Jack
experienced a revulsion of feeling. Why had they ever come out on this
ostrich hunt, anyway? To kill so beautiful a thing seemed a crime. Ali
looked up at him and said:
“We may as well take the plumes now.”
“Oh, I don’t want them,” said Jack. “Let’s find Bob.”
Ali smiled slightly. He could understand his companion’s distaste. As
for him, inured to hardships, was he to be so shaken up by one that he
neglected to pick a small fortune, a tidy sum, in ostrich plumes? Death
of his life, no. He strode to the body of the ostrich and began
methodically to pull out the barbs of the plumes.
In the meantime, Jack through his glasses scanned the horizon, searching
for signs of Bob. Now that the danger to Ali was past, recollection of
the fact that no sign of his comrade had yet appeared, flooded back on
him. What could have become of Bob? Jack was filled with anxiety.
Certainly, no matter whither he had strayed he would have given some
sign ere this. Could his camel have thrown him? Did he lie stunned
somewhere on the desert? That seemed the most likely possibility.
“Hurry, Ali,” he called, still sweeping his glance around the desert.
“We must go and look for Bob.”
Ali completed his task, having picked the best of the plumes, and left
the rest to fortune, stirred by the peremptoriness of Jack’s tone. As he
walked nearer, Jack suddenly voiced a low exclamation.
“What it is?” Ali asked. “Do you see Mister Bob?”
“I thought I saw a man on horseback over there,” said Jack, pointing
toward the northeast, where the ridge of higher sand dunes which earlier
had caught his gaze, lying to the north of him, stretched eastward.
“A horseman?” Ali’s tone grew alert. “We have no horses here.”
“Now I can’t see any more,” said Jack. “Look here, what’ll we do? We’ve
got to go and look for Bob. He’s strayed, that’s all there is to it.”
Rapidly he outlined to Ali his fears that Bob had strayed from his
course and became enmeshed among the higher sand hills, perhaps had been
pitched from his camel. Ali, whose glasses had been lost in his fall,
scouted around until he recovered them beneath a bush. Then he, too,
examined the sand dunes Jack indicated.
“That horse you saw,” Ali said presently. “I don’t like it.”
“What do you mean?” Jack demanded quickly. “Desert robbers?”
“Perhaps,” said Ali. “Although this is off the caravan routes and is not
rich ground for robbers. Perhaps, the Athensians.”
“Oh, come now,” scoffed Jack. Nevertheless, he, too, experienced a
sudden sense of fear.
“Well,” said Ali, “take me up behind you, and we’ll investigate. Mister
Bob’s trail ought to be easy to follow.”
Obediently, Jack caused his camel to kneel and Ali scrambled up behind.
Then, with its double load, Jack turned the beast’s head toward the
point where the three earlier had separated. The indentations made in
the sand by the pads of Bob’s camel were easy to follow, and in his
anxiety Jack pushed his own animal ahead at a shuffling run. Ali perched
precariously behind him had hard work holding on, but said nothing. He
was as anxious as Jack.
In less than the half hour Bob had taken to reach his station, they
arrived. Then the sorry story lay before them. To Ali’s desert-trained
eyes, it was easy to read.
Both Ali and Jack flung themselves from the camel and went scouting
around. Bob’s camel tracks, the hoof marks of horses, a broken piece out
of the shield of Bob’s sun helmet, and the mass of zinc for a ground for
his radio set, which had become detached from his camel’s saddle, all
told what had occurred.
“I’ll bet old Bob put up a whale of a fight,” said Jack. “But why didn’t
we hear any shots?” He explained about the one shot which he had heard.
“Whoever was here,” said Ali, gauging the situation correctly, “wanted
to take Mister Bob prisoner, not to kill him.”
“But Bob had his Winchester,” objected Jack. “Why didn’t he use it?
Either they closed in on him too fast, or else it became jammed.”
Ali nodded, but did not reply. He was engaged with other thoughts and in
a moment gave Jack the result of his cogitations.
“A half hour for Mister Bob to arrive here, a half hour for us to
arrive,” he said. “Not to speak of the time lost in our ostrich hunt.
These men have more than an hour’s start of us. They are on horses, and
eight or ten in number. We have a camel, which is slower, and we are
only two. It would be folly to pursue.”
“Follow or not,” said Jack hotly, “I’ll not let old Bob be carried off
without doing my——”
Ali held up a hand and interrupted.
“It will be a long chase,” he said. “We must organize for it. Let us
return to the oasis. There are ten of us left. Armed, provisioned,
mounted on our camels who have had a long rest, we can return and pick
up the trail before nightfall. Camels need less rest than horses. Even
though they are slower, by pushing them we may yet cut off these others,
if——”
He gestured toward the distant Shaitun Mountains. Jack nodded
understandingly.
“You mean if they are Athensians and are heading home?” said Jack.
“Well, you are right, Ali. I want to start right away, but your way is
better. Come on, mount, and we’ll get back to the oasis as fast as a
camel ever made it.”