The eyes of the cassiowary were as sharp, however, as our own, and seeing the danger in front, slackened its speed as though uncertain what to do, and we took advantage of the hesitancy to urge the pace of our horses to the utmost, and gained so rapidly that Fred determined to try his reatta.  He whirled it over his head in true Mexican style, and threw it, but the Mexican science was not in the act; it struck upon the bird’s back, and then slipped to the ground.

Nothing daunted, Fred gathered up his rope again, and by the time that it was in his hand the chase suddenly stopped, raised its long neck, and attempted to pass between us, and again seek refuge amidst the grass that was growing in profusion on our right.

That act was fatal to the poor bird, for before it could gain headway Rover had caught one of its long legs in his mouth and bit so hard that a shrill shriek was elicited—­something like the cry of an enraged ape.  Again did the bird strike him with beak and claw, but the dog held on with the tenacity of a death-grip; and during the struggle we rode quickly up and threw our slip-nooses over that long neck, which had cut through the air with more than railroad speed.  Even then, the cassiowary seemed to be more concerned about Rover than ourselves, and fought him fiercely.

“Call off the dog,” shouted Fred; “we have him sure, now.”

That was a task of some difficulty, for Rover had got his blood up and was fighting desperately, making the feathers fly in all directions; and even his antagonist was using all the weapons that nature had given him, and was striking out like a prize-fighter, fighting with wings and beak, and sometimes with feet, in a manner that would have excited the admiration of a cock-fighting padre.

By the time that I got Rover to relinquish the combat,—­and during its continuance I did not escape harmless,—­the teamsters had stopped their oxen and were rushing towards us, anxious to see what kind of an animal we were struggling with.  The bird made frantic efforts to escape, but by means of the rope we were enabled to frustrate them, and were getting him quite subdued when the crowd reached us.

“What on airth is that?” inquired a man, whose voice readily proclaimed his nation.

“Why, that is an Australian turkey,” replied Murden, who joined us at that instant, looking somewhat the worse for his trip, and we noticed that his seat in the saddle was not very firm.

“Why, you don’t say that, ’squire?” asked our new acquaintance, approaching the captive to get a nearer view.

“Yes, it is.  We pasture them out a little ways, and when the people at Ballarat feel like having a feast we catch one, but sometimes they get a little wild.”

“Wall, I swow to man, if that don’t beat all that I ever heard of, and no mistake.  I’ve seen big cock-turkeys, and uncle Josiah raised one for last Thanksgiving that was a whopper, but this knocks him.  I say, what could I get a pair of these ’ere for?”