“What’s that?” cried Jack. “Father’s pointing to the shore. I see: a lizard. No, it’s too big; it must be a crocodile.”
“Couldn’t be in a bit of an island like this. It is, though. Ah, I see, there’s a little river runs up into the land. Look, it’s one of the valleys. I wonder the water’s so clear. Comes over rocks, I suppose.”
“There he goes,” cried Jack, for just then the great heavy saurian, which had crawled out at daybreak to have a nap in the warm sun, divined danger, shut its jaws with a loud snap, and rushed clumsily into the water, giving its tail a flourish as it disappeared in a heavy swirl.
“I should have liked his head,” said the doctor, “but he may keep it for the present. We’ll remember this place and come and look him up another time.”
“Is it true that their horny skulls can’t be penetrated by a bullet?” asked Jack.
“I should be sorry to trust to it if a man was taking aim at me with a rifle, Jack. Oh no: I dare say if you shot at one and it hit the beast at a very sharp angle it might glance off, but a fair straight shot would go right through one of them. Look at that butterfly—or moth.”
“There’s something drinking—two somethings—four or five. What are they?”
“Legs and loins of pork, all alive oh!” said the doctor merrily. “Dear me! and we must not fire at them. What a pity! Look at that little fellow. He’s just the size for the larder.”
“You mustn’t speak so loud, doctor,” cried Jack, laughing; “the pigs hear what you are plotting against them.”
“Seems like it. My word, how they can run!”