“Shoot them, then,” said Drew.
“No, no, don’t, or you’ll startle the crocodile. I don’t want to shoot them,” said Oliver; “I want to study their habits a bit, and they’ll go into the water here close to us.”
Just then the second crane, which was stalking gravely behind its companion, stopped short, and uttered a warning cry. It was too late. Simultaneously, the crocodile, which had been cunningly watching the bird; made a scythe-like blow with its tail, and swept the foremost, broken and helpless, into the lagoon. Then, springing up as the second bird took flight, the reptile was making a rush for the water, when Drew’s gun spoke out, and Panton’s followed with such good effect, that the crocodile’s progress was checked, and it swung itself round to lie with its tail in the water, thrashing about, and raising a muddy spray, which spread for far enough, spattering upon the water like so much dirty rain.
“Just sarves you right, my smiling beauty,” cried Smith, excitedly. “Strikes me you won’t break no more birds’ legs for some time to come. Hit him again, sir.”
Drew’s second barrel was fired as he spoke, for the reptile was gradually working round, as if to plunge into the water, but the bullet it now received in the side of the head checked it, and a fourth from Panton made it sink down almost motionless, save that it made a few feeble snaps with its jaws.
“And I’m precious glad on it,” said Billy Wriggs, who had taken the most intense interest in the affair. “Like me to walk in and fetch out that there bird, sir?” he continued, pointing to where the crane floated upon the surface of the lagoon.
“I should like the bird,” said Oliver, “but I don’t think it would be safe for you to wade in, Wriggs. Perhaps it will float ashore.”
“I’m so wet, sir, a drop more water won’t hurt me.”
“I was not thinking about your getting wet,” replied Oliver, who was intently watching the bird, which was apparently quite dead, “but of the risk of your encountering another crocodile.”
“What, in there, sir—in the water?”