When Stanley heard of the attack made by the lion on our camp, he declared that he must set out at once and put a stop to his depredations. After a consultation, however, with Igubo, he agreed to wait till the evening, when they supposed the lion would go down to a spot near the river to drink. It was a small creek, rather, where the banks were sufficiently low and hard to allow the animals to reach the water without difficulty, which they could not do at many places along the borders of the lake on account of the wide fringe of reeds and thick underwood which encircled it.
“Is the gemsbok the only animal we have lost?”
“Oh no, indeed,” cried Leo. “Poor Chico is gone!”
“What I did the lion carry him off?” asked Stanley.
“Oh no. A horrid monster of a crocodile,” answered Leo. “I wish we could punish the brute.”
Igubo seemed to understand what was said. “I do it,” he remarked.
“Yes,” said Timbo; “he say he kill crocodile; no ’fraid of crocodile!”
How he was going to manage it, however, he did not inform us.
As may be supposed, Stanley dropped to sleep over his breakfast, and was glad directly afterwards to go to bed. Igubo and his boys followed his example; but after a few hours’ rest, they again appeared, as fresh as if they had not been undergoing severe exertion for a couple of days under an African sun.
“You come and see Igubo kill de crocodile,” I heard Timbo say to Leo and Natty.