“Hah! Yes, plenty, many; sahib jump in and swim, crocodile—”
He ceased speaking and finished in pantomime, by raising one hand and rapidly catching the other just at the wrist.
“Snap at me?” said Ned.
“Yes, sahib. Catch, take under water. Eat.”
“I say, though, is he stuffing me? Do they really seize people, or is it a traveller’s tale?” said Ned, appealing to his uncle; but the Malay, who had been engaged from his knowledge of English to act as interpreter up the river, caught at the boy’s words, though he did not quite grasp his meaning.
“No, no, sahib; not stuff you. Crocodile stuff, fill himself much as he can eat.”
Then he turned sharply and said a few words to his companions in the Malay tongue, and they replied eagerly in chorus.
“There’s no doubt about it, Ned,” said his uncle. “They are loathsome beasts, and will drag anything under water that they can get hold of.”
“Then we ought to kill it,” said Ned excitedly. “Let’s shoot it, at once.”
“Where is it?”