smooth, sandy bed; besides, she thought it
was safer, being free from surf or currents.

It was only safer in appearance, as the sequel proved; for the hunters
and fisherman had scarce scattered off out of hearing, when a cry broke
upon the still air of noon that startled the bright-winged birds of the
Bornean forest, and stopped their songs as quickly as would have done a
shot from Captain Redwood's rifle. It was heard by the captain himself,
strolling among the tree trunks, and looking aloft for game; by Murtagh
on the river bank, endeavouring to beguile the sly fish to his baited
hook; by Saloo, wading knee-deep in search of Singapore oysters; and by
Henry swimming about upon the buoyant incoming tide. More distinctly
than all the rest, the little Helen heard it--since it was she who gave
it utterance.

It was a cry of distress, and brought all the others together, and
running toward the point whence it came. There was no difficulty about
their knowing the direction, for one and all recognised Helen's voice,
and knew where she had been left.

In less than sixty seconds' time they stood together upon the bank of
the stream, on the same spot from which they had parted; and there
beheld a spectacle that thrilled them with fear, and filled them with
horror.

The girl, finding it not deep enough by the edge of the stream--at this
point nearly a hundred yards in width--had waded midway across, where it
came quite up to her neck; and there she stood, her head alone showing
above the surface. Beyond her, and coming from the opposite side,
showed another head, so hideous it was no wonder that, on first
perceiving it, she had given way to affright, and voice to her terror.

It was the head of an enormous reptile, of lizard shape, that had
crawled out from a reedy covert on the opposite side of the river, and
having silently let itself down into the water, was now swimming toward
the terrified bather. There could be no mistaking the monster's intent,
for it was coming straight toward its victim.

"_A gavial_!" cried Saloo, as his eyes rested on the body of the huge
saurian, full twenty feet in length, with its head over a yard long, and
jaws nearly the same, the upper one surmounted by a long knob-like
protuberance, that distinguishes it from all other reptiles.

"A gavial!" echoed the others, though not inquiringly; for they knew too
well both the shape and character of the creature that was crossing the
river.