"No; he's nearly as superstitious as any of them," replied the lad.
"No, Sahib," said Sree; "I only think it's strange that you fired shot after shot into that thing, and still he was as strong as ever. I hope he will not stop about here, and make it not safe to come down to the landing-place. It would be bad."
"Ahoy—oy—oy!" rang out in a clear, manly voice, and the sound of oars was followed by a boat gliding into sight.
CHAPTER V
THE DOCTOR'S POST-MORTEM
"Morning, Mr. Cameron," cried Harry heartily, as the boat, propelled by its fore-and-aft rowers, glided up to the landing-stage, Sree handing the crocodile-catching rope to one of the men to make the boat fast, while the occupant of the seat beneath the central awning leapt out.
He was a good-looking, lightly bronzed, red-haired man of about thirty, tall, and active apparently as a boy, and as he strode over the yielding bamboo flooring, making it creak, he shook hands warmly.
"How are you, my lads?—Ah, Sree!" and the hunter salaamed.
"I'm jolly, Mr. Cameron. Phra's bad. Put out your tongue, old chap."
Phra's reply was a punch in the chest.