“Hee-ar! Help!” cried Dinny. And running in the direction of the sound, they came upon Dinny’s boot-soles, and were just in time to save him from gliding into the little river, head first, the tuft of grass to which he was clinging having given way.
“An’ did ye see the murthering baste?” cried Dinny, who looked white through his sunburning.
“No, I saw nothing,” cried Mr Rogers.
“Ah, but he’s down there in the muddy water. Shure I’d caught one great ugly fat fish like an overgrown son of an eel; there he lies where he wriggled himself,” said Dinny, pointing to a fine silurus lying in a niche of the rock. “And I’d hooked another, when a great baste of a thing wid the wickedest oi ye ever see, and a smile as wide as the mouth of the Shannon, came up and looked at me. ‘Oh, murther!’ I says; and he stared at me, and showed me what a fine open countenance he had; and just then the big fish I’d hooked made a dash, and gave such a tug that I slipped as I lay head downwards, bechuckst thim two bits o’ bushes, and I couldn’t get meself back agin.”
“Why, there’s the fish on the line still,” cried Jack, seizing the rough rod, and trying to land the captive of Dinny’s hook.
“Ah, and ye’ll take care, Masther Dick, for I belave it’s that great baste has swallowed the fish, and ye’ll be pulling him to land.”
Dinny was not right; and full of excitement, Jack was trying hard to land the fish, when there was a rush and a swirl in the water, and as they caught sight of the head and jaws of a good-sized crocodile the line was snapped, and the little party stood gazing at the muddy stream.
“Shure an’ that’s him,” said Dinny. “Did ye ever see such a baste?”
“A warning not to bathe,” said Mr Rogers; and after watchfully waiting to see if the reptile would give them an opportunity for a shot, they walked back to the camp, Dinny carrying his fish, and bemoaning the loss of the other and his tackle.
“How big should you think that was, father?” said Dick.