SPORTING STORIES.
A further batch of breezy little narratives—exciting, humorous, and curious—detailing the adventures of sportsmen in various parts of the world.
IV.—CORKER'S ALLIGATOR.
By Frank E. Verney.
There were four of us on the bungalow veranda. Behind us, grim and gaunt in the glow of the Southern Cross, rose the Blue Mountains; out ahead, six miles away, twinkled the lights of Kingston Harbour; whilst around us, from the profusion of tropical flowers, jewelled with flitting fireflies, came sweet incense and insects of a painfully inquisitive turn of mind.
It was not the charm of the night or the assaults of the mosquitoes that held our attention, however, but the prospect of an alligator-hunt on the morrow, led by the redoubtable Corker,[1] our host, who, under the influence of plentiful potions of "planters' punch" and the presence of two unsophisticated "subs" of the West India Regiment, had been telling us tales of mighty deeds done in obtaining the trophies which now covered his walls.
[1] For obvious reasons I have altered the real names of the parties concerned.—The Author.