“How long will he lie there?” Chebron asked the hunter.
“A long time if he is left to himself, but we are going to stir him up.”
So saying he directed the boat toward the rushes nearest to the bank and pushed the boat through them.
“Oh, here you are, Jethro!” Chebron said, seeing the Rebu and the men he had accompanied standing on the bank.
“What has happened, Chebron—have you killed one of them? We heard a sort of roar and a great splashing.”
“We have not killed him, but there are two spear-heads sticking into him.”
The hunter handed the cords to the men and told them to pull steadily, but not hard enough to break the cords. Then he took from them the end of the rope they carried and poled back into the pool.
“Those cords are not strong enough to pull the great beast to the shore, are they?” Chebron asked.
“Oh, no, they would not move him; but by pulling on them it causes the spear-heads to give him pain, he gets uneasy, and rises to the surface in anger. Then, you see, I throw this noose over his head, and they can pull upon that.”
In two or three minutes the animal’s head appeared above the water. The instant it did so the hunter threw the noose. The aim was correct, and with a jerk he tightened it round the neck.