"Yes," said Phra, "but they'll have a good rest soon while we're going slowly, and there will be nothing to do but steer, going back."
"I say, suppose they get back first with the tiger."
"I hope they will not," cried Phra; "but it isn't likely. They've a long way to go, and the beating will take a long time. We shall be back first. Ugh, you brute!" he whispered, reaching for his gun, cocking both barrels softly, and taking aim at a large crocodile.
Snip! snap! and then a splash, as the reptile disappeared.
"I don't think you have killed it," said Harry seriously, but with his eyes dancing with mischief.
"Ah, you're better," cried Phra pettishly. "You don't want to run amok now. How could I be so stupid! I never thought about not being loaded."
"Better think about it now," said Harry, beginning the operation in the tedious, old-fashioned way that ruled so long before the cartridge was invented for a sportsman's use. "But we were only to shoot birds, I thought."
"Yes, birds, and only beautiful specimens," replied Phra. "I couldn't help being tempted to fire at the brute, though. I shall always be shooting at them now."
"Here we are," said Harry, and at a word from Phra the light sampan was guided into a sluggish side stream only some twenty yards or so wide, while on either side the trees rose like a wall of verdure, the water lapping the leaves, which dipped and played up and down with the motion of the stream.
"You take that side and I'll take this," said Phra; and then giving the order to the rower in front, the man ceased paddling and made his way right astern, to squat down on the little platform beside his fellow, who cleverly propelled and steered the light craft with his one oar, leaving the look-out forward free for the gunners.