172 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM. 



greater part of which sounded like very bad lani^uage. 

 One day we heard the cackling of a hen, which had 

 apparently laid an egg on the top of the American 

 windmill ; and, on looking up, found that Bobby had 

 selected this airy height as his practising-ground. It 

 was one of his favourite places ; and often, when there, 

 he would catch siijjht of us the moment we came out of 

 the house, and would come flyin^^ straight down to us, 

 settling, sometimes quite unexpectedly, on a head or 

 shoulder. He knew his name, and would come to us 

 when we called him ; unless indeed we had detected 

 him in some mischief, when he would walk off, and 

 keep carefully out of reach until he thought his offence 

 was forgotten. 



He was our constant companion out of doors ; and 

 when I went round to the store, gave out the men's 

 rations, fed the ostriches and fowls, or superintended 

 the washing, he was sure to be either following close at 

 my heels like a dog, or perched on my shoulder, 

 whispering confidentially in my ear in a most affec- 

 tionate manner, while his bright little jewel of an eye 

 watched all I did with great interest. His devotion to 

 his master often led him to tiy down the well after him, 

 when work had to be done or superintended there. On 

 one occasion he overshot the mark and got into the 

 water, where he very narrowly escaped being drowned. 

 He was pulled out with some difficulty, very wet and 

 miserable, too frightened to know friends from foes, 

 and biting: his rescuer with all his misfht. 



He would accompany us on our walks; and often took 



