irst disposed to change his
tactics. He evidently realized that he was pursued, and it seemed to
make him angry.
"The rascal has put his helm to port," said Wales.
"Look out there, in the waist!" shouted Scott to the seamen, a couple of
whom were seated on the rail, with their legs dangling over the side of
the boat. "Never sit in that way, men, unless you want to be carried to
the hospital with a leg bitten off."
"Will they bite, Captain?" asked Clinch.
"Bite? They are regular man-eaters on these rivers."
"I used to go in swimming with the alligators on the Alabama River; but
they all kept their distance," added the seaman.
The two men drew in their legs and moved inboard. Alligators, which are
generally considered harmless in the rivers of the Southern States, will
bite at anything hanging in the water. As Wales had suggested, the
crocodile had changed his course, and was now headed directly for the
Blanchita. He seemed to have concluded that there was no safety for him
in flight, and he had decided to fight.
"Your first shot, Louis," said Scott, who had not even taken up his
rifle, as if he thought there would be no chance for him after the
millionaire had fired.
Louis waited a minute or more till he could distinctly see the eye of
the crocodile, and then he fired. As has so often been said before, he
had been thoroughly trained in a shooting-gallery, and was a dead shot,
as he had often proved during the voyage. The bullet had evidently gone
to his brain, for the reptile floundered about for an instant, and then
moved no more. As Felix put it, he was "very dead," though the word
hardly admits of an intensifier.
"What are you going to do with him now?" asked the Milesian.
"I don't think we want anything more of him; but, like a poison snake,
he is a nuisance that ought to be abated," replied the captain. "I dare
say the rajah will be much obliged to us for making the number of them
even one less."
"How long is he?" Achang inquired, as he returned his rifle to its
resting-place.
"About ten feet," replied Louis.
"More than that," the captain thought. "I should say twelve feet."
"Then he is worth eighteen shillings to you," added the native.
"What is he good for, Achang?" asked Morris.
"He is good for nothing," replied the Bornean. "The crocodile here eats
men and women. Some are killed every year, and the government pays one
and sixpence apiece for the heads."
"That looks like a w
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