“Here, Bruff, Bruff, Bruff!” cried Mark.
But his cry would have been too late, even if the dog had obeyed, for at that moment the water was parted and a hideous head with dull gleaming eyes appeared, as one of the monsters made a rush at Bruff.
Morgan was ready for him, though, and quick as thought, from a distance of not more than four yards, he poured the contents of his gun right in the reptile’s face, following it up with the second barrel.
To the delight of all, the monster gave a bound and made a clumsy leap out on to the dry ground, where it lay beating the water with its tail, giving it resounding blows, and only lying still to begin again.
“Shall I give him another shot?” said Gregory.
“No; half his skull is blown away,” said the major. “Let him die.”
“Put the game in the bag, sir?” said Billy respectfully.
“Ask Mr Morgan,” said the major haughtily. “I did not fire the shot.”
Small took out his great pocket-knife, and cut a rattan to a length of about twenty feet, and after trimming off the leaves readily contrived a running noose at the end, then cleverly contrived to noose one leg as well. A sharp snatch drew the noose tight, and at the boatswain’s suggestion everyone took hold of the cane and the struggling reptile was hauled right away from the water to die, proving a goodly weight though it was not above nine feet long.
“There, Bruff, old man,” said the boatswain, “suppose you give one of his paws a nip to serve him out. It would be only fair. Shall I give him the knife, sir?”