d fish, and it means dinner for the
mess."

"I believe it's a young crocodile," said Lennox. "My word, how it
tugs!"

"Play it--play it, man! Don't pull, or you'll drag the hook out of its
jaws. Give it line."

"Can't; he has it all out."

"Then you'll have to follow it down-stream."

"What! go into the water? No, thanks."

"What! shrink from wading when you've got on a fish like that at the end
of your line? Here, let me come."

"No; I'll play the brute and land him myself. But, I say, it's a fine
one of some kind; pulls like an eel. Look how it's wagging its head
from side to side."

"Better let me come," said Dickenson, whose face was scarlet from
excitement.

"Get out!"

"I'll never forgive you if you lose that fish, Lennox, old man."

"Not going to lose him. Look; he has turned, and is coming up-stream;"
for the line, which a few moments before was being violently jerked,
suddenly grew slack.

"Gone! gone! gone!" cried Dickenson, with something of a sob in his
throat.

"You be quiet!" said Drew. "I thought, it was only a bit of wood a few
minutes ago."

"Fish, of course, and the hook's broken away."

"Think so?" was the cool reply, as foot after foot of the line was drawn
in. "I was beginning to be of the opinion that he had given it up as a
bad job and was swimming right in to surrender."

"No; I told you so. You've dragged the hook right out the fish's jaws,
and--Oh, I'm blessed!"

"With a good opinion of yourself, Bobby," said Drew, laughing; for after
softly hauling in about eight or ten yards of the stout water-cord he
felt the fish again, when it gave one smart tug at the line and dashed
up past the stone, running out all that had been recovered in a very few
seconds.

Directly after there was a check and a jerk at the officer's hand, while
a cry escaped his lips as he let the line go and stooped to pick up his
rifle.

"That's no good," began Dickenson.

"Quick, man! Down with you!--Ah! you've left your rifle. Cover!"

"Oh!" ejaculated Dickenson; and his jaw dropped, and he stood
motionless, staring across the river at the sight before him on the
other bank.

"Hands up! Surrender! You're surrounded!" shouted a rough voice.
"Drop that rifle, or we fire."

Drew Lennox was bent nearly double in the act of raising it as these
words were uttered, and he saw before him some twenty or thirty barrels,
whose holders had covered him, and apparently only awaited another