e; the water seemed to be all alive for a few
minutes, swirling and eddying, and sending rings to the edge, and then
it began to subside, but it was discoloured now, and evident that the
one crocodile they had seen was not without companions.

"Now, it's my 'pinion," said Billy, "that if you'd come fishing instead
o' shooting, and rigged up rods and lines and tried for these here
things in these ponds, you'd have had some sport."

"But what would you have baited with?" said Mark, laughing.

"I d'know," said Billy Widgeon. "Yes, I do," he continued, "dog. They
say as 'gators and crockydiles is rare and fond o' dog."

At that moment, by an odd coincidence, there was a piteous howling
heard, followed directly after by a shot and then by another.

"Major's shot your dog, Mr Mark," said the boatswain, with a comical
look at the captain's son, as they hurried on.

"Bruff wouldn't have howled before he was hurt," said Mark excitedly.
"They've shot some wild beast. Why didn't we keep up with them?"

"Hope it ar'n't lions or tigers," said Billy, as he panted on under the
load of a bag which contained certain bottles of beer.

"No lions or tigers in an island like this," said Small oracularly.
"Oh, there they are."

A turn in the river-bed had brought Mark and his companions in sight of
the major and the two mates about a hundred and fifty yards away. Mr
Morgan was kneeling down by a pool doing something to the dog, while the
major and Gregory looked on.

"I was right," said Small; "they have shot your dog, Mr Mark."

At that moment Bruff caught sight of his master, and uttering a loud
bark, he started off from where he stood and came limping on three legs
towards Mark, holding his right fore-paw in the air and whimpering
piteously.

"Why, Bruff, old chap, what is it?" cried Mark, as the dog came up
holding out his leg as if for sympathy; "have they shot you? Why, no;
he has been in a trap."

"No," said the boatswain, examining the dog's leg, "he's been fighting
and something has bitten him. Wild pig, for a penny."

"Here, Mark, my lad," cried the major, "you nearly lost your dog."

"What's been the matter?" cried Mark.

"A crocodile got hold of him by this pool."

"How, how!" cried Bruff, throwing up his head and giving vent to a most
dismal yell, as if overpowered by the recollection.

"Ah, I said as they likes dog," said Billy Widgeon sententiously.

Bang, bang!

Then, as the smoke rose up slowly