“Bid them carry it to the creek a mile away.”
The bailiff asked whether the reward was to be paid if it were let go in the creek, and thinking of possible damage subsequently I answered “No.”
He returned to say, “The men declare that they have carried it far enough already. They’ve done enough for nothing.”
“Then leave it bound.”
“They want their ropes and pole.”
“I’ll take its blood upon my head. Call a man from the Treasury guard to shoot it. Let them fling its carcass into the sea and pay them then.”
[106] ]To this they agreed, it was reported; and, fearing some accident to the crowd, in the absence of the Superintendent of Police, I went to see the killing rightly done.
There was difficulty in getting people to move out of danger. So one of the men knelt beside the crocodile unbidden, and, with a knowing look, full of suppressed fun, he cut the strings that held the jaws together and some of the other ropes.
Slowly the crocodile moved and opened wide the greatest mouth I ever beheld—something suggestive of the “Jaws of Hell.” The crowd shrieked and dispersed to a distance. Then the crocodile died. His bearers received the promised money, the fishes ate his body, and his blood is upon my head.