Jan’s danger was imminent. He was rushing impetuously forward upon the coiled serpent. He knew not that it was before him. No warning would reach him in time to stay his haste. In another moment he would be on the narrow path, and then no power could save him from the deadly bite. It would be impossible for him to leap aside or over the reptile, as the antelope had done; for even then Trüey had noticed that the cobra had darted its long neck several feet upwards. It would be certain to reach little Jan, perhaps, coil itself around him. Jan would be lost!

For some moments Trüey was speechless. Terror had robbed her of the power of speech. She could only scream, and fling her arms wildly about.

But these demonstrations, instead of warning Jan of the danger, only rendered it the more certain. He connected the cries which Trüey now uttered with that which had first summoned him. She was in some trouble—he knew not what; but as she continued to scream, he believed that something had attacked her. A snake he thought it might be; but whatever it was, his first impulse was to hurry up to her rescue. He could do no good until close to her; and, therefore, he did not think of halting until he should reach the spot where she stood.

Her screams, therefore, and the wild gestures that accompanied them, only caused him to run the faster; and as his eyes were bent anxiously on Trüey, there was not the slightest hope that he would perceive the serpent until he had either trodden upon it, or felt its fatal bite.

Trüey uttered one last cry of warning, pronouncing at the same time the words:—

“O, brother! back! The snake! the snake!”

The words were uttered in vain. Jan heard them, but did not comprehend their meaning. He heard the word “snake.” He was expecting as much; it had attacked Trüey; and although he did not see it, it was no doubt wound about her body. He hurried on.

Already he was within six paces of the dread reptile, that had erected its long spread neck to receive him. Another moment, and its envenomed fangs would pierce deep into his flesh.

With a despairing scream Trüey rushed forward. She hoped to attract the monster upon herself. She would risk her own life to save that of her brother!

She had got within six feet of the threatening reptile. Jan was about the same distance from it on the opposite side. They were equally in peril; and one or the other—perhaps both—would have fallen a sacrifice to the deadly cobra; but at that moment their saviour was nigh. A dark shadow passed under their eyes—in their ears was a rushing sound like the “whish” of a falling body—and at the same instant a large bird darted down between them!

It did not stay to alight. For a moment its strong broad wings agitated the air in their faces; but the next moment the bird made a sudden effort, and rose vertically upwards.

Trüey’s eyes fell upon the ground. The cobra was no longer there.

With an exclamation of joy she sprang forward, and, throwing her arms around Jan, cried out,—

“We are saved, brother!—we are saved!”

Jan was somewhat bewildered. As yet he had seen no snake. He had seen the bird dart down between them; but so adroitly had it seized the cobra and carried it off, that Jan, looking only at Trüey, had not perceived the serpent in its beak. He was bewildered and terrified, for he still fancied that Trüey was in danger.

When he heard her exclaim, “We are saved!” he was bewildered all the more.

“But the snake!” he cried out. “Where is the snake?”

As he put these questions, he kept examining Trüey from head to foot, as if expecting to see a reptile twined around some part of her body.

“The snake, Jan! Did you not see it? It was just there, at our feet; but now—see! yonder it is. The secretary has got it. See! They are fighting! Good bird! I hope it will punish the villain for trying to rob my pretty weavers. That’s it, good bird! Give it to him! See, Jan! What a fight!”

“Oh, ah!” said Jan, now comprehending the situation. “Oh, ah! Sure yonder is a snake, and a whopper, too. Ne’er fear, Trüey! Trust my secretary. He’ll give the rascal a taste of his claws. There’s a lick well put in! Another touch like that, and there won’t be much life left in the scaly villain. There again,—wop!”

With these and similar exclamations the two children stood watching the fierce conflict that raged between the bird and the reptile.

Now this bird was a very peculiar one—so much so, that in all the world there is no other of the same kind. In form it resembled a crane, having very long legs, and being about the height and size of a crane. Its head and beak, however, were more like those of an eagle or vulture. It had well-developed wings, armed with spurs, and a very long tail, with the two middle feathers longer than the rest. Its general colour was bluish grey, with a white throat and breast, and a reddish tinge upon the wing-feathers. But, perhaps, the most remarkable thing about the bird was its “crest.” This consisted of a number of long, blackish plumes growing out of its occiput, and extending down the back of its neck nearly to the shoulders. These gave the bird a very peculiar appearance; and the fancied resemblance to a secretary of the olden time with his long quill behind his ear—before steel pens came into fashion—is the reason why the bird has received the very inappropriate name of the “Secretary-bird.”

It is more properly named the “serpent-eater,” and naturalists have given it the title Gypogeranus, or “crane-vulture.” It is sometimes also called “the messenger,” from the staid solemn manner of its walk, as it stalks over the plain.

Of all its names that of “serpent-eater” is the best adapted to the character of the bird. It is true there are other birds that kill and eat serpents,—as the “guaco” bird of South America, and many hawks and kites,—but the secretary is the only winged creature that makes reptiles of this class exclusively its prey, and carries on a constant war against them. It i............