They went back over the route they had traveled, and, at last, found the place where Mr. Reed had left the caravan. They knew it by the trampled bushes, and by the twigs broken off here and there, and plants pulled up by the roots. Following these marks of his progress they suddenly came out upon the banks of a river. And there they saw the botanist. And, at the same time, all were struck with horror at his situation. He, alone, was happily serene, unconscious that any danger was near him.
Seated on a mossy bank, in the midst of tall reeds, on a peninsula that extended pretty far out into the river, was their botanist. He had an umbrella over his head to shield him from the sun, and was busily engaged, arranging some “specimens” in his book of plants, which he called an Herbarium. His back was towards the river, and so absorbed was he in his occupation that he had not discovered that a whole colony of crocodiles had come to pay him a visit. Neither did he hear or see his companions although his face was turned directly towards them.
The crocodiles had arranged themselves in a long row, with their heads above the water, watching the botanist with great interest, and evidently, meditating an attack upon him. How long they had been there could not, of course, be known, but, in a few moments after the hunters appeared upon the scene, the nearest crocodile seemed to have made up his mind that a botanist was good to eat, and made straight towards the land, followed by another huge beast.
THE UNCONSCIOUS MR. REED.
Mr. Reed continued calmly to arrange his specimens.
Two men from the hunting party at once rushed forward upon the peninsula, and fired upon the crocodiles. It was quite time, for two of the foremost ones had reached the land. They rolled over into the water, and all of the great beasts at once disappeared under the surface of the river.
The shots did arouse Mr. Reed’s attention, or else he had finished his work; for he looked up, and said to his companions, who now surrounded him:
“I have found one of the rarest of plants—the Iscodextiana—and it has twelve stamens, just as I have always maintained.”
“I wonder if it would have agreed with the stomach of a crocodile!” said one of the hunters.