swirl in the water as he disappeared.

"No, Pomp," I would say, "the first 'gator I shoot must be that one in
the bathing-pool. Come along."

On we went, with the river winding in and out through the forest, and
there was always something fresh to see: humming-birds that were not so
big as some of the butterflies and beetles that swarmed in the sunshiny
parts; great lagoon-like pools where the running of the stream became
invisible, and we could see far down in the deep water where fish were
slowly gliding in and out among the roots of the trees, which in many
places clothed the bottom with masses of fibre. Now Pomp's eyes would
be ready to start out of his head as we neared a corner, or starting off
into the forest to avoid some wild or swampy patch, we crept out to the
river's bank again, to startle a little flock of ducks which had been
preening themselves, and sent feathers like tiny boats floating down the
stream.

"Plenty of time," I would keep saying. "We don't want them yet, and
I'll shoot them when we do."

"But 'pose dey not dah to shoot when you want um, Mass' George. I
dreffle hungry now."

"Ah," I said at last, "our wallet is getting heavy. Let's pick out a
place, and have some lunch."

Pomp pricked up his ears, as he generally did when he heard a new word,
and this was one ready for him to adopt.

"Iss," he said, eagerly, "I berry fond o' lunch. I fought smell um
yesday when missie cook um."

"Cook what?" I said.

"Dat lunch, Mass' George."

I laughed, and pressed on to look for a good spot, and soon found one
where a great tree, whose roots had been undermined by the river, had
fallen diagonally with its branches half in the water, and offering us a
good seat just nicely shaded from the burning sun, while we had only to
lie out on its great trunk and reach down to be able to fill the tin can
I had with the clear water.

The gun was leaned up against the tree-roots; we each sat astride facing
each other, the bigness of the tree making it rather an uneasy seat; I
slung the wallet round and placed it between us, and had just thrust in
my hand, while Pomp wrenched himself round to hang the ammunition
pouches close to the gun on a ragged root behind him, when, all at once,
the boy's left leg flew over and kicked the wallet out of my hands, and
he bounded a couple of yards away to stand grinning angrily and rubbing
himself.

"Too bad, Mass' George. What do dat for?"

"Do what?" I cri