For reply, Jack wheeled his horse round and plunged madly for the land.
"Back to the shore, Peter, quick!" he shouted, "for your life!"
CHAPTER IX
MORE TREACHERY
When we reached the bank and looked round, the dark object had disappeared, but almost immediately it reappeared within five yards of us. We could see it plainly now—a huge, scaly head, half out of the water, and a wicked little eye looking straight at us as though gloating over the feast it had just lost by a hair's-breadth. It was horrible.
"Oh, the cruel-looking, bloodthirsty, gaol-bird brute!" muttered Jack, raising his rifle. "Thank Heaven we were not a quarter of a minute later, Peter! Now watch—this is for his eye-socket."
As the little rifle sent out its message with a light, ping-like report, there was a strange upward lift of the great head, a vast commotion for a moment of the water, then the tail went up and the head went down; there was a little reddening of the mudded stream, the crocodile disappeared, and the tragedy was over.
To my surprise, Jack immediately turned and made for the group of men—the two Strongs and Clutterbuck—sitting by their camp fire and watching us; he still held his rifle in his hand—his little double-barrelled sporting weapon. I took my revolver and followed him, for I did not know what he meant to do. Henderson strode right up to the group and addressed them without any kind of preface.
"If I were certain you fellows were aware that the crocodile held the ford," he said, "I'm hanged if I wouldn't chuck you in after him, one by one."
"Words don't cost much," said James Strong; "we are three to your two. It is foolish to boast of what you would do if you were strong enough."