Ah! he will be too late; already the jaws—That crash?
The branch has broken!
He sinks back to the surface—below it. He is out of sight—he has gone to the bottom! and after him, open-mouthed and eager, darts the gigantic lizard. Both have disappeared from our view.
The froth floats like a blanket upon the waves, clouting the leaves on the broken branch.
We watch with eager eyes. Not a ripple escapes unnoted; but no new movement stirs the surface, no motion is observed, no form comes up; and the waves soon flatten over the spot.
Beyond a doubt the reptile has finished its work.
Whose work? Was it the hand of God who took vengeance?
So they are saying round me.
The pursuers have faced back, and are swimming towards us. None cares to trust himself under the black shadows of those island oaks. They will have a long swim before they can reach the shore, and some of them will scarcely accomplish it. They are in danger; but no—yonder come the skiffs and pirogues that will soon pick them up.
They have seen the boats, and swim slowly, or float upon the water, waiting their approach.