“What have you shot, boys?” said Mr Rogers, hurrying up. “I was afraid it was an accident, the two rifles went off like one.”
They told him, and being eager to see if there was any trace of the crocodile, they went round the shores of the little lake to the other side of the point, for the river wound so that the incident took place on their own bank; but for a few minutes they could see nothing but muddy water.
“I’m afraid you did not kill him, boys,” said Mr Rogers.
“But we frightened him off,” cried Jack; “and that’s something.”
“Chicory find him; look!” cried the boy, pointing where he stood.
They went to his side, and there sure enough, with its light underparts showing, lay a great crocodile, its tail moving feebly to and fro, and, most satisfactory sight of all to the boys, a couple of threads of blood rising slowly from the monster’s head through the clear water.
“Hah!”
It was Chicory who shouted, and as he did so he struck back his young masters. For his quick eyes had seen what looked like a dark shadow in the river; and his effort was just in time, for a huge crocodile threw itself half out of the water, disappearing again with a sullen plunge as it missed its prey.
“I think that will do for to-day, boys,” said Mr Rogers. “Let’s get back to the waggon. For my part I feel disposed to spend the rest of our time shooting crocodiles, so as to try and rid the country of a few of the pests.”
“Only all we could kill would be as nothing, would they, father?” said Dick.