CROCODILES 129 



am ashamed to say, but one morning I crept up 

 behind a huge tree and, peeping through some 

 bushes, saw its eyes and nose. Through an 

 opening I carefully aimed and took off the top 

 of its skull. It sank instantly, and, as the water 

 was shallow, I tried to persuade my gun bearer 

 to wade in after it. He was afraid of being 

 nabbed by another croc, however, so it was left 

 to me to get the animal out. Armed with a long 

 pole, I waded into the shallow and fished about 

 until I found the body, while the gun bearer 

 stood on shore with my cocked rifle in case 

 another croc appeared. Finally, I managed to 

 drag the croc close enough for us to catch it 

 by the tail and haul it to the bank. It was a 

 small one, only nine feet long; in fact, of the 

 four crocs that I killed none was larger. 



When we commenced to skin it the thing 

 thrashed and kicked as though it were alive, but 

 of course no animal whose brains had been 

 floating down the Nile for the past fifteen min- 

 utes could still be alive. Nevertheless, it was 

 the liveliest dead thing I ever attempted to take 

 the bark from. My gun bearer straddled and 

 tried to hold it, but it wrenched its tail about 

 and threw him several feet. Finally I managed, 



