128 AFRICAN ADVENTURE STORIES 



aim at the middle of its back. At the sound 

 of the rifle it threw its head high in the air and 

 wriggled about so that my second shot missed 

 the brain and struck the jaw. The first shot 

 had severed its vertebra, however, and it soon 

 died. That night the body was carried away 

 by some animal. 



A few days later another croc slid off the 

 bank, not far from the same place, but foolishly 

 rose to the surface a few yards away, giving me 

 time to shoot it through the brain with a ball 

 from my 32-40 Moundsville three-barrel gun. 

 Turning on its side it sank at once and was not 

 seen again. 



Another wily old fellow lived in a channel 

 between the bank of the river and a papyrus 

 island fifty feet away. Time and again it man- 

 aged to escape me by scurrying into the water 

 before I could fire. The first time that we met 

 I came upon it so unexpectedly that it almost 

 turned a back somersault off the bank, as it 

 wheeled and plunged into the channel. After 

 that it would lie in the water, close to shore, 

 with only its eyes and tip of its nose above the 

 surface. 



How many times that old villain escaped I 



