“A hundred men could never put this together again,” said Guy, as he pulled a couple of floating fragments from the water.
The torches and rugs were easily procured, and laid away to dry, but the lamp and the oil-flask could not be found. They were probably at the bottom, but no one cared to dive after them.
“That was the closest shave I ever saw,” said the colonel. “I gave you both up for lost, and as for that daring act of yours, Chutney, I cannot find words to express my admiration. You saved Sir Arthur’s life.”
Guy modestly made no reply. He calmly pulled on his jacket and shoes, and suggested that they cross the island and take a look at the other serpent.
The reptile was found to be quite dead, and little wonder, after all the spears that had entered his coils. As near as they could judge, he was between thirty and forty feet long, with a body as thick as a small keg. The skin was repulsive and slimy, of a dirty green color.
“It’s a regular sea-serpent,” said Melton. “What a sensation a monster of this kind would make if he were put on exhibition at the Zoo.”
“And the other one was fully as large,” added Guy. “That makes no less than four we have already encountered. There must be a great many in the river and lake.”
One glimpse of the creature sickened Sir Arthur. He turned away and sat down on the edge of the raft.
Up to this moment the excitement had banished all else from their minds. They had fought a desperate fight for life and conquered. At the very flush of their success the shadow of certain death returned, blacker and more forbidding than ever, and in a moment their triumphant feelings were changed to deepest melancholy.
A short time before, under the influence of the colonel’s philosophical words, they had felt in some manner resigned to a fate that nothing could avert. Now it was ten times more horrible and loathsome to contemplate, ten times harder to realize.