"I felt a bit queer," said Harry thoughtfully. "If I were your father
I'd offer a reward for every crocodile that was killed in the river.
They're no good, and they must do a deal of mischief in the course of
the year."
"Let's tell him so," said Phra, smiling. "Perhaps he will."
The journey back was beautiful enough, for they were looking at the long, sunlit course from a different point of view; but it had ceased to interest, for the lads were hungry and tired, glad enough too when the great stone landing-place was reached, and after giving instructions to the men to take in the birds to place them in Mike's charge for transfer to Sree when he returned, they went into the palace, Harry to be Phra's guest over a very hearty, semi-English meal; for the hunters had not returned and there was no temptation for Harry to go home and eat alone when he was warmly pressed to stay where he was, so as to be present when the hunters returned in triumph.
It was growing late by the time they had done, and they strolled out into the court, and then into the beautiful garden, one of the King's hobbies.
It was a lovely moonlight night, with here everything turned to silver, there all looking black and velvety in the shade. The river, too, looked its best, with the moonbeams playing upon its surface; but the boys were growing too weary to admire the beauties around, or to heed the buzzing, croaking, and booming that came from across the river.
"Look here," said Harry at last, "they've gone farther than they meant, and they're not coming back to-night."
"Going to camp out?" asked Phra dubiously.
"Not a doubt about it. Perhaps going to watch through the night for the tiger, with a goat or calf tied up for bait."
"Very likely," said Phra, yawning.
"There, don't turn sleepy like that."