“Yes. Can’t afford to bait with little boys and girls,” replied Frank, merrily; “they come expensive, and the mothers don’t like it.”
“But you are going to kill it first?”
“Kill it? What for? We shouldn’t get a bite if we did.”
“But it’s so horribly cruel.”
“Is it? Well, I suppose it is, but if it wasn’t killed this way, it would have been killed directly to make into a curry. This is a better end for it, for we shall save people’s lives.”
“If ye catch him, Masther Frank,” said Tim.
“Oh, we shall catch him, Tim. You’ll see. There, hold still.”
As he spoke, Fred was busy tying the twine round the hen with ingenious knots, till the poor bird looked as if it had been put in harness; while, firmly secured in amongst the string bandages, and hidden by one of the wings, the hook lay ready for the reptile, if it did not prove to be too cunning to touch the bait.
“There!” cried Frank, at last; and he then said something to the Malays, from whom a murmur that was a chorus of approval, arose.
“Are you going to throw it into the river close by where I saw the monster!” whispered Ned.