"Some of the best I have ever seen, Sahib; there is hardly a feather gone. Look at this one," said the man, taking hold of the bird's long, thick beak and giving it a dexterous shake, with the result that the feathers fluffed up and then fell gently back into place, lying so lightly and naturally that it was hard to believe that nothing but the skull, leg and wing bones were left of the little creature which animated the skin so short a time before.
"Beautiful," said Harry, examining it and the others already prepared in turn. "I wish you had been with us, though. We had capital sport."
"Yes, Sahib, I wish I had been with you," said Sree. "My heart felt heavy for you when I found you were not to come. I like to be with the young Sahibs. We had no sport at all."
"Ah, you should have been with us. The crocodile must have been fourteen feet long."
"Ah! but they would not be so big up the little river. I hope, though, the Sahib will not shoot any more."
"Not shoot any more!" cried Harry. "Are you friends with the wretches?"
"No, Sahib," said the man solemnly; "but they are dangerous beasts, and I fear if the young Sahib goes after them much there may be an accident."
"Hardly likely," said Harry contemptuously.
"I don't know, Sahib; they are very dangerous beasts. A hungry mugger, as they call them over yonder on the Ganges, will rush at any one in the water, or try to sweep him off the shore into the river. If he is wounded he is mad with rage, and strikes about furiously with his tail. One hard blow would break or overturn a sampan, and a man in the water is no match for one of these beasts."
"Oh, but I shall be careful, Sree," cried Harry; "and I can't help hating the monsters."