Tales of the Malayan Coast _ From Penang t - Rounsevelle Wildman

(Perpustakaan Sri Jauhari) #1

seemed to be made of india-rubber and steel springs. I should not have been
more surprised had the great timboso tree, beside which he lay, arisen and
danced a jig. He seemed to spring from the middle up into the air without the aid
of either his head or his tail. Then he brought his tail around in a circle and
struck the skeleton roots of the mangrove with such force as to dislodge a small
monkey in its top, which fell whistling with fright into the lower limbs, while the
crocodile’s great jaws, which seemed to measure a third of his length, opened
and shut viciously, snapping off limbs and roots like straws.


“He sick!” shouted the Chief Justice. “Fire quick.”


I threw the cartridge from the magazine into the barrel, and raised the gun to my
shoulder just as the huge saurian struck the water. My bullet caught him
underneath, near the back legs. My companion’s must have had more effect, for
the crocodile stopped as though stunned. I had time to drop my gun and snatch
up my revolver.


It was an easy shot. The bullet sped true to its mark and entered one of the small
fiery eyes. The huge frame seemed to quiver as though a charge of electricity
had gone through it and then stiffened out,—dead.


Our Malay boys got a rope of tough gamooty fibres around the great head, and
we towed our prize out into the stream just as the Resident’s launch, bearing the
Prince and the ladies, steamed up the river to watch the sport.


A crowd of servants got the crocodile up on the bank near the palace grounds
and drew it two hundred yards to their quarters. Now comes the strangest part of
the story.


My servants had half completed the task of skinning him, for I wished to send
his hide to the Smithsonian, when the muezzin sounded the call to prayers from
the little mosque near by. In an instant the devout Mohammedans were on their
faces and the crocodile in his half-skinned state was left until a more convenient
time. At six o’clock the next morning I was awakened by a knock at my door:—


“Tuan, Tuan Consul, come see boyah (crocodile).”


I got up, wrapped a sarong about me, put my feet into a pair of grass slippers,

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