"What the dickens is it now?" roared Mr. Hume, as a series of resounding thwacks arose out of the well.
Compton drove his harpoon into the well, and held on like grim death, as the impaled thing lashed out to free itself.
"A crocodile!" he shouted. "I can't hold him down much longer."
"Crocodile be blowed!" shouted Mr. Hume, unhooking the lantern and directing its light into the well. "It's a fish."
"But," said Compton, "I saw the crocodile. It came straight for the boat. Venning saw it too."
"It was over there," said Venning, peering into the dark.
"Then the fish must have jumped aboard to escape the crocodile. Anyway, we can have fish-steak for breakfast," and Mr. Hume quieted the fish with a blow on the head.
"I made sure it was the crocodile," said Compton, in an aggrieved tone. "Look at the hole in the curtains; there'll be tons of skeeters aboard."
"You turn in and I'll smoke," said the hunter, who smoked enough for three; and, with his pipe filled and lit, he took up the watch.
Once more the little party settled down to pass the night, and this time there was no disturbance until, in the chill of the early morning, the sleepers were awakened to get in the awning, to make all shipshape aboard, and to prepare breakfast. The fish was not handsome-looking, but he cut up into really good steaks, which were grilled on a gridiron fitted over the stove, and, with hot coffee and a biscuit apiece, they ate a meal which made them proof against the depressing surroundings.