An hour later they outspanned for the noon halt. By some subtle warning, Schoverling led them away from the river to a little bare mound crowned by a single spreading mimosa, around which the oxen were grouped. Below on one side, stretched the jungle. On the other, tall grass, reeds and undergrowth led away to the river. And on that little eminence the expedition all but came to grievous wreck.
CHAPTER XIII
A DESPERATE BATTLE
Fortunately for the entire party, the bandoliers were filled that noon with the heavy cordite bullets, for Schoverling advised all to carry their heavy guns. Guru, Akram Das and Amir Ali carried the 30-30s, while von Hofe broke out a box of shells for the shotgun, as he wished to get a specimen of a peculiar crane he had seen that morning in the river, and refused to let the others shoot it for him.
"Nein," he objected determinedly. "I shoot my own specimens, thanks, for it is good to say, 'Shot and mounted by Gross von Hofe.' I can shoot when I wish."
"I should say you can," laughed Charlie. "You sure nipped that big snake in the right place, Doctor! I never saw any better shooting."
"You let the doctor alone," chuckled Schoverling. "He knows his business better than any of us. Give him an elephant gun, if he wants it!"
The big Teuton smiled broadly through his blond beard, for the praise was dear to his honest heart. While they sat and rested, Gholab Singh washed the tin dishes, humming one of his native songs. Jack's quick eye caught a movement in the bushes toward the river, and as he jumped up a big boar came running out.