"Well, no," said Uncle Marbury; "there isn't much horse about them, but they spend most of their time in the river, so half their name is correct. The first one I killed tipped over all our boats, so we had to swim for it."
"Did he get a bite at any of you?"
"It wasn't his fault that he didn't. We found out that fishing for river-horses was a serious piece of business."
"Fish for them? What! with a hook and line?"
KILLING A HIPPOPOTAMUS IN WESTERN AFRICA.
"Not exactly. It was a good deal more like fishing for whales. Mr. Lloyd and I went after them with a lot of black hunters. We took our guns, and they took their harpoons, and such a time as we had you never saw."
Cal and Rob were getting a good deal waked up on the river-horse question, and their mother dropped her book in her lap, although she had heard that story once or twice before.
"Now, boys," she said, "don't interrupt your uncle. Let him tell it all his own way."