upon the sand, stooping with
outstretched hand to seize them, when there was the slightest
disturbance possible in the water, and the head of a monstrous crocodile
appeared.

Back darted Peter, and the head of the crocodile sank slowly beneath the
water, when, unaware that help was at hand, Peter waited a minute or
two, and then once more stole gently and on tiptoe towards his
much-coveted garb.

This time his hand was almost upon it when out came the crocodile's
head, and Peter nimbly darted back, but only to come on again as quietly
as possible, apparently quite ignorant of the fact that it was by the
eye that the reptile distinguished his coming, and not by ear.

Twice more was this watched, when Mr Rogers, feeling alarmed lest the
driver should be too venturesome, whispered to his sons to shoot.

"No, father," whispered back Dick; "we want to see you shoot this one."

Mr Rogers hesitated a moment, and then lying down upon his chest he
rested the barrel of his rifle on the edge of the rock where it went
perpendicularly down to the little strand, and waited for the next
appearance of the dangerous monster.

He had not long to wait, for Peter seemed to be determined this time to
make sure of his garment, and cautiously stealing forward he had almost
touched it, when out came the crocodile's head once more, and as Peter
darted back it remained stationary, its hideous eyes watching the black
driver, when Mr Rogers' rifle spoke out, and Peter fell upon his back,
yelling for help; while the stream, that had quietly rippled over where
the crocodile lay, was suddenly beaten by the monster's struggles into a
tempest of foam.

"Are ye kilt, Pater, ma black bouchal?" cried Dinny piteously, as he
leaped down to the aid of his fellow-servant.

"Mind the crocodile, Dinny," shouted Dick maliciously.

"Oh! murther!" roared Dinny; and he scrambled up the rock again, and sat
there panting, as the boys roared with laughter. "Ah, and it's moighty
funny, I've no doubt, Masther Dick, sor, but how would you fale yourself
if one of the great crocodivils had got hold of ye?"

"Very bad, Dinny," said Dick. "There, go and help Peter; he isn't hurt,
only frightened."

"Thought boss shot me," said Peter, making a rush, and then triumphantly
waving his drawers over his head, before withdrawing to a place of
safety, where he could watch with the others the dying struggles of the
crocodile, which grew weaker and weaker, and then cea