Venning picked up his parcel and followed the officers.  Out of the comer of his eye he saw the seeming yellow cur lift its head and smell at the thongs which were bound about the prisoner’s legs.  Then he hurried on.

“Wow! the bull drives, the cow into the water.  He is cunning.  Ow ay, he knows.”

“What does he know, old talker?” asked one of the officers.

“The cow is fat,” laughed the old man.  “The hunter would shoot the fat cow first, and so the bull makes her take the risk.  He is wise.”

“He is shameless!” screamed the women.

“See them?” said Compton, offering his glasses to Venning and pointing up-stream.

Far up Venning saw three dark objects on the shining glance of the vast river.  One, the canoe fringed with branches, slowly drifting upon the other two, raised but a few feet above the water on a gleaming yellow sand island.  One hippo, with its huge head swinging, was standing up, looking not unlike an overfed prize pig.  Then the other rose, and the two walked towards the water.

“Wow! the old bull keeps on the safe side.  I said it; he is wise.”

“Shameless!” cried the women.

“Wherefore does the crocodile-slayer delay?  Surely he knows the body will sink in the river if it reach the water.”

“The smoke!  He fires!”

“The cow is down!  To the boats children—­to the boats!”

Men and boys made a rush, and, out of a tremendous uproar of splashing and shouting, half a dozen canoes were flying at full speed for the cow’s meat, altogether indifferent to the future proceedings.

“The smoke again!  The bull has it!  He is down; he is up; he is in the water!  Wow!  Look out, O ‘slayer of crocodiles!’”

“But the cow lies still!” cried a woman, anxiously.

“Oh ay, there will be meat for the feast.  But what of your man in the canoe if the bull seize him?”

“It is his risk,” said the woman, calmly.

Venning dropped the glass, and he and Compton stood looking from the island to the old hunter, who seemed to know every point in the game better than they could follow through the glasses.

“Ah, it is well.  They tear the branches from the canoe.  They row straight for the island.  The white man jumps—­the men tumble out—­ wow-wow!—­the bull takes the canoe in his jaws.  It will go hard with those who go for the meat if he get among them.”

“The white man leaps in the water!” shouted another.  “But he holds his gun above him.  He reaches the sand; the others crawl up also.  They run!  I do not see the bull!”

“There are crocodiles!” shrilled a woman, pointing with an arm heavily ringed with brass bangles.

“This is not their fight, mother.”

“But they will take our meat.”

“It is the bull I think of.”  “Will he meet the canoes, or will he face the three on the island?  The white man sees the canoes; he waves them to go back, but they smell meat; they keep on.”  “What is this?  He points his gun at them.  They stop; they turn back.”