It would have been good-night for the hunter’s leg had not the guide filled the forehead of the reptile with shot—shot that entered between the eyes and sank into the brain to paralyze further designs on her enemies.
With a mighty effort the huge creature lifted herself half out of the water and flung herself far from the log. The midstream silently covered her with its green covering and the monster sank from view.
“Did we kill her?” nervously cried Jack.
“Her gone! She die, but not here. Where she go we no go!”
“All right, then, I’m through hunting alligators. After seeing the frantic grief and mother-love in that awful thing’s eyes I could not aim at another creature in this swamp. You go on with the guide, Ray, but I’m through!” declared Jack.
“I say the same, Jack. When you remember the old reptile’s snout as she lovingly went over the carcass of her young, it makes us seem like brutes, even less soulful than the poor alligator. Come on.”
The guide smiled. He could not understand such sentiments over a vile alligator, and he felt that he had selected a pair of weak-kneed youths to take into the swamp.
“You not fraid of legs! I not let alligator bite you, I swear!” exclaimed the guide, thinking they were nervous at the close acquaintance with the mother-’gator.
But Jack took no trouble to explain. They motioned the man to lead out, and shortly after the incident had closed the three reached the sandy shore where the boat had been anchored.
In the heat of a tropical sun they ate a few rice-cakes and drank warm water from the canteen, but they had to wait for more than an hour before the other hunters came back. Meanwhile the guide had followed his own bent and had gone back into the swamp to secure a trophy. Jack was glad to find later that he had not seen a single snout.