But, as before said, the stream was flowing of a rich coffee or chocolate hue, deeply laden as it was with the fine mud of the low flats so often flooded after rains in the mountains, and it was impossible to see a fish, save when now and then some tiny, silvery scrap of a thing sprang out, to fall back with a splash.
"We're only going to make ourselves hot for nothing," said Harry. "I don't believe we shall see the beast. Now, if you had been here when I saw him."
"And both of us had had guns," said Phra. "What nonsense it is to talk like that! One never is at a place at the right time."
"Fortunately for the crocs," said Harry, laughing. "Here he is."
"What, the croc?" cried Phra, cocking his gun.
"No, no; Sree.—Got it?"
"Yes, Sahib. A good big one."
The man came on to the landing-stage, smiling, with the bright new double hook in his hand and a stout piece of string. Then taking down a little coil of rope used for mooring boats at one of the posts, he thrust one of the hooks through the hemp, bound it fast with string, leaving a long piece after knotting off, and then passed the other hook well through the vertebrae and muscles behind the snake's head, using the remaining string to bind the shank of the hook firmly to the serpent's neck so as to strengthen the hold.
There were about twenty yards of strong rope, and Sree fastened the other end of this to the post used to secure the boats, before looking up at the boys.
"Large big fishing," he said, with a dry smile. "Fish too strong to hold."