“But surely the lions would never venture to attack so large a party?” Dick said in surprise.
“They will indeed,” Mr Harvey answered. “These brutes often hunt together, as many as twenty or thirty; they are nothing like such powerful beasts as the North African lions, but they are formidable enough, and the less we see of them the better. But there are numerous prints on the sand near the water, and probably large numbers of them are in the habit of coming to this pool to drink. I expect therefore that we shall have a stirring night.”
As soon as the oxen were unyoked, they were driven a short distance out to pasture. Five or six of the natives looked after them, while the remainder set to work to gather sticks and dried wood for the fires.
“I think,” Tom said, “that I will go and have a bathe in the pool.”
“You will do no such thing,” Mr Harvey remarked; “the chances are that there are half a dozen alligators in that pool—it is just the sort of place in which they lurk, for they find no difficulty in occasionally taking a deer or a wild hog, as he comes down to quench his thirst. There! don’t you see something projecting above the water on the other side of the pool?”
“I see a bit of rough wood, that looks as if it were the top of a log underneath the water.”
“Well, just watch it,” Mr Harvey said, as he took aim with his rifle.
He fired; the water instantly heaved and whirled at the spot the boy was watching; the supposed log rose higher out of the water, and then plunged down again; five or six feet of a long tail lashed the water and then disappeared, but the eddies on the surface showed that there was a violent agitation going on underneath it.
“What do you think of your log now?” Mr Harvey asked, smiling.
“Why, it was an alligator,” Tom said. “Who would have thought it?—it looked just like a bit of an old tree.”