I did not see them in the morning, as they went away before I had risen. Stanley had been absent two days, when, as the weather was cool, the boys begged me and their sisters to come down and take a paddle on the lake. I was able, I thought, to walk down and back again with their assistance, and as David thought I should benefit by the amusement, he advised me to go, Timbo remaining, while Jack went as captain. Chico, as usual, accompanied us, and hopping into the canoe, took his seat in the bows. As we paddled along we had abundance of matter to interest us, in the numerous birds which skimmed along the water or sat perched on the trees. Bella pointed out some beautiful turtle-doves, which were sitting happily on their nests above the water gently uttering their low coos to each other. Not far off we espied an ibis perched on the stump of a tree, shattered probably by lightning.
“I should like to bring her down for her impertinence,” cried Leo. “Listen to her loud ‘Wa—wa—wa.’ She is trying to drown the voices of your favourites, Bella.”
Though we passed close by, the ibis seemed in no way disposed to move, but continued shouting “Wa—wa—wa.” However, she was not allowed to cry alone, for near her sat three fish-hawks piping away in the same fashion. Leo was about to stop and take a shot at one of them, but Kate intreated him to let the bird alone, and we rowed on, leaving him and his companions piping away to their hearts’ content. Presently we saw a moderately-sized bird, like a plover, darting here and there, and uttering a peculiar sound. “Tine—tine—tine,” cried Leo; “what is that you say?” Presently a white-necked raven, which was sitting on a stump some way down, flew off, shrieking with fear, as the plover pursued it.
“Well, that is a coward,” said Leo. “He is running away from a bird half his size.”
“Very wise,” observed Jack. “Timbo, when he was out with me the other day, told me they call him the ‘hammering iron,’ on account of his ‘Tine—tine—tine’ cry. But it is not his cry which makes the raven fly off. He has got a sharp spur on his shoulder, just like that on the heel of a cock, and he could dig it into the raven, and soon draw its life-blood.”
On went the plover to a bank a little way ahead, where it pitched on what we thought at that distance was a log of wood. As we paddled up the seeming log turned into a huge crocodile basking in the sun.
“Stop paddling,” I cried to the boys. “Let us see what the plover is about.”
It ran along the back of the reptile, but stopped on the top of its snout, and then with perfect fearlessness actually flew down into its gaping mouth. I then recollected an account I had read of a bird on the Nile of that description, which is known by the name of siksak—the trochilus. It is stated by two or three credible witnesses that it performs the part of tooth-picker to the monster. Whether it was so occupied or not we could not tell, but presently the crocodile appeared to rouse itself up and to crawl towards the water, into which he plunged, diving down out of sight.
“There goes Master Tine—tine—tine flying away. I suppose he will go and warn his other friends,” said Jack. “That is his business, so Timbo says; and when these birds are about you can never get a shot at a crocodile.”
As we continued paddling on we were convinced that they had been warned of our approach, for they all betook themselves to the water long before we got near them. Proceeding we reached a part of the river where the banks were steep and composed of sand. Presently we saw a creature crawling out of the water, and making its way up the bank.