Jock Of The Bushveld by Sir Percy Fitzpatrick (Chapter 22)( Page 4 ) The Old Crocodile

Some of Tom's stories were truly incredible, but not those in which he figured to advantage: he was too brave a man to have consciously gained credit he did not deserve.  He died, slowly starved to death by the cruel disease--the brave, kindly, cheery spirit, smiling unbeaten to the end. That was what Jim referred to when he called me to kill the murderer of women and children.  It pleased him and others to say that this was the same crocodile; and I believe it was.  The locality was the same, and the kraal boys said that it was in the old place from which all its murderous raids had been made; and that was all we knew. I took the rifle and went with the herd boy; Jim followed close behind, walking on his toes with the waltzy springy movement of an ostrich, eager to get ahead and repeatedly silenced and driven back by me in the few hundred yards' walk to the river. A queer premonitory feeling came over me as I saw we were making straight for the bathing pool; but before reaching the bank the herd boy squatted down, indicating that somewhere in front and below us the enemy would be found.  An easy crawl brought me to the river bank and, sure enough, on the very spot where I had stood to wash, only fifty yards from us, there was an enormous crocodile.  He was lying along the sand spit with his full length exposed to me.  Such a shot would have been a moral certainty, but as I brought the rifle slowly up it may have glinted in the sun, or perhaps the crocodile had been watching us all the time, for with one easy turn and no splash at all he slid into the river and was gone. It was very disgusting and I pitched into Jim and the other boys behind for having made a noise and shown themselves; but they were still squatting when I reached them and vowed they had neither moved nor spoken.  We had already turned to go when there came a distant call from beyond the river.  To me it was merely a kaffir's voice and a sound quite meaningless: but to the boys' trained ears it spoke clearly.  Jim pressed me downwards and we all squatted again. "He is coming out on another sandbank," Jim explained. Again I crawled to the bank and lay flat, with the rifle ready.  There was another sand streak a hundred yards out in the stream with two out croppings of black rock at the upper end of it--they were rocks right enough, for I had examined them carefully when bathing.  This was the only other sandbank in sight: it was higher than it appeared to be from a distance and the crocodile whilst hidden from us was visible to the natives on the opposite bank as it lay in the shallow water and emerged inch by inch to resume its morning sun bath.  The crocodile was so slow in showing up that I quite thought it had been scared off again, and I turned to examine other objects and spots up and down the stream; but presently glancing back at the bank again I saw what appeared to be a third rock, no bigger than a loaf of bread.  This object I watched until my eyes ached and swam; it was the only possible crocodile; yet it was so small, so motionless, so permanent looking, it seemed absurd to doubt that it really was a stone which had passed unnoticed before. As I watched unblinkingly it seemed to grow bigger and again contract with regular swing, as if it swelled and shrank with breathing; and knowing that this must be merely an optical delusion caused by staring too long, I shut my eyes for a minute.  The effect was excellent: the rock was much bigger; and after that it was easy to lie still and wait for the cunning old reptile to show himself. It took half an hour of this cautious manoeuvring and edging on the part of the crocodile before he was comfortably settled on the sand with the sun warming all his back.  In the meantime the waggon-boys behind me had not stirred; on the opposite side of the river kaffirs from the neighbouring kraal had gathered to the number of thirty or forty, men, women and children, and they stood loosely grouped, instinctively still silent and watchful, like a little scattered herd of deer.  All on both sides were watching me and waiting for the shot.  It seemed useless to delay longer; the whole length of the body was showing, but it looked so wanting in thickness, so shallow in fact, that it was evident the crocodile was lying, not on the top, but on the other slope of the sand spit; and probably not more than six or eight inches--in depth--of body was visible. It was little enough to aim at, and the bullet seemed to strike the top of the bank first, sending up a column of sand, and then, probably knocked all out of shape, ploughed into the body with a tremendous thump. The crocodile threw a back somersault--that is, it seemed to rear up on its tail and spring backwards; the jaws divided into a huge fork as, for a second, it stood up on end; and it let out an enraged roar, seemingly aimed at the heavens.  It was a very sudden and dramatic effect, following on the long silence.