second, third, and fourth ball followed the first. His appetite returned, and his strength came again.
All the wild nature of the bird had gone, and I saw with delight that we might begin his education as soon as we chose. Rice, guavas, maize, and corn he ate readily—WASHING IT DOWN, as Jack expressed it, with small pebbles, to the great surprise of Franz, to whom I explained that the ostrich was merely following the instinct common to all birds; that he required these pebbles to digest his food, just as smaller birds require gravel.
After a month of careful training, our captive would trot, gallop, obey the sound of our voice, feed from our hand; and, in fact, showed himself perfectly docile. Now our ingenuity was taxed to the utmost. How were we to saddle and bridle a bird? First, for a bit for his beak. Vague ideas passed through my mind, but every one I was obliged to reject. A plan at length occurred to me. I recollected the effect of light and its absence upon the ostrich, how his movements were checked by sudden darkness, and how, with the light, power returned to his limbs.
I immediately constructed a leathern hood, to reach from the neck to the beak, cutting holes in it for the eyes and ears. Over the eye-holes I contrived square flaps or blinkers, which were so arranged with whalebone springs that they closed tightly of themselves. The reins were connected with these blinkers, so that the flaps might be raised or allowed to close at the rider's pleasure.
When both blinkers were open, the ostrich would gallop straight ahead: close his right eye and he turned to the left, close his left and he turned to the right, shut both and he stood stock still.
I was justly proud of my contrivance, but, before I could really test its utility, I was obliged to make a saddle. After several failures, I succeeded in manufacturing one to my liking and in properly securing it; it was something like an old-fashioned trooper's saddle, peaked before and behind—for my great fear was lest the
