“Not always, effendi, when they are half hidden in the grass.”
Lawrence nodded, and went away to try and stalk one of the lizards. The professor was busy making measurements and taking notes, while Mr Burne smoked on peaceably, and the Turk, who had led them here, crouched down and stared at the scarlet and yellow turban as if it fascinated him, while overhead the sun poured down its scorching beams and there was a stillness in the air that was broken by the low buzz and hum of flies, and the deep murmur of the spring below.
Lawrence crept softly along to one white stone upon which three lizards were basking; and after a moment’s hesitation thrust out his hand, making sure that he had seized one by the neck, but there were three streaks upon the white stone like so many darting shadows, and there was nothing.
“Wasn’t quick enough,” he said to himself, and he went softly to another stone upon which there was only one, a handsome reptile, which looked as if it had been painted by nature to imitate polished tortoise-shell.
The sun flashed from its back and seemed to be hot enough to cook the little creature, which did not stir, but lay as if fast asleep.
“I shall have you easy enough,” said Lawrence, as he gradually stepped up to the place and stooped and poised himself ready for the spring.
He was not hasty this time, and the reptile was perfectly unsuspicious of danger. There was no doubt about the matter—it must be asleep. He had so arranged that the sun did not cast the shadow of his arm across the stone, and drawing in his breath, he once more made a dart at the lizard, meaning if he did not catch it to sweep it away from its hole, and so make the capture more easy.
Snatch!
A brown streak that faded out as breath does from a blade of steel; and Lawrence hurt his hand upon the lichened stone.
“I’m not going to be beaten,” he said to himself. “I can catch them, and I will.”