The grooms and grass-cutters howl and dance. Willie and I dig each
other in the ribs, and all generally act in an excited and insane way.

Pat now puts the rope over his shoulder, we all take hold, and with a
'one, two, three!' we make a simultaneous rush from the bank, and as
the rope suddenly tightens with a pull and strain that nearly jerks us
all on our backs, we feel that we have hooked the monster, and our
excitement reaches its culminating point.

What a commotion now in the black depths of the muddy stream! The
water, lashed by his powerful tail, surges and dashes in eddying
whirls. He rises and darts backwards and forwards, snapping his
horrible jaws, moving his head from side to side, his eyes glaring with
fury. We hold stoutly on to the rope, although our wrists are strained
and our arms ache. At length he begins to feel our steady pull, and
inch by inch, struggling demoniacally, he nears the bank. When once he
reaches it, however, the united efforts of twice our number would fail
to bring him farther. Bleeding and foaming at the mouth, his horrid
teeth glistening amid the frothy, blood-flecked foam, he plants his
strong curved fore-legs against the shelving bank, and tugs and strains
at the rope with devilish force and fury. It is no use--the rope has
been tested, and answers bravely to the strain; and now with a long
boar spear, Pat cautiously descends the bank, and gives him a deadly
thrust under the fore arm. With a last fiendish glare of hate and
defiance, he springs forward; we haul in the rope, Pat nimbly jumps
back, and a pistol shot through the eye settles the monster for ever.
This was the first alligator I ever saw hooked; he measured sixteen and
a half feet exactly, but words can give no idea of half the excitement
that attended the capture.