The time seemed long to the brave young fellow as he held on for dear life; and it seemed long to Bob Roberts before he could act; but it was but a matter of moments before he had reached Ali’s side, with his gun cocked; and placing the piece close to the reptile’s eye as it glared savagely at him, and seemed about to leave one victim to seize another, he fired both barrels in rapid succession.
There was a tremendous splash as the smoke hung before him for a few moments, then as it rose the young middy saw nothing but the troubled water before him, and Ali lying panting, and with his eyes starting, close by his side.
By this time Tom Long and the two Malays had come up, eager with questions, to which Ali answered faintly, and gladly partook of a little spirits from the young ensign’s flask.
“I ought to have known better,” he said, “but I did not think of the danger. It will be a warning for you both. These rivers swarm with the brutes.”
“But your leg?” cried Bob, kneeling down.
“A little torn; that’s all,” said the young Malay, stoically. “My sarong and the trousers have saved it, I think.”
All the same though it was bleeding freely, and with a rough kind of surgery Bob’s handkerchief was used to bind it up.
“I’m not much hurt,” said Ali then; and to prove his words he rose, limped a step or two forward, and picked up his gun, while Bob proceeded to slip a couple more cartridges in his own, gazing once more eagerly into the pool, but seeing nothing but a little blood-stained water.
He turned sharply round, for something touched him, and there stood Ali, looking at him in a peculiar manner, and holding out one hand, which Bob took, thinking the other felt faint.
“I can’t talk now,” said Ali, hoarsely; “but you saved my life. I shall never forget it.”