I have even seen a hunting-knife driven at one blow deep into the
hardest part of the back; and this was a crocodile of a large size,
about fourteen feet long, that I shot at a place called Bolgodde,
twenty-two miles from Colombo.

A man had been setting nets for fish, and was in the act of swimming to
the shore, when he was seized and drowned by a crocodile. The next
morning two buffaloes were dragged into the water close to the spot, and
it was supposed that these murders were committed by the same crocodile.
I was at Colombo at the time, and, hearing of the accident, I rode off
to Bolgodde to try my hand at catching him.

Bolgodde is a very large lake of many miles in circumference, abounding
with crocodiles, widgeon, teal, and ducks.

On arrival that evening, the moodeliar (headman) pointed out the spot
where the man had been destroyed, and where the buffaloes had been
dragged in by the crocodile. One buffalo had been entirely devoured, but
the other had merely lost his head, and his carcass was floating in a
horrible state of decomposition near the bank. It was nearly dark, so I
engaged a small canoe to be in readiness by break of day.

Just as the light streaked the horizon I stepped into the canoe. This
required some caution, as it was the smallest thing that can be
conceived to support two persons. It consisted of the hollow trunk of a
tree, six feet in length and about one foot in diameter. A small
outrigger prevented it from upsetting, but it was not an inch from the
surface of the water when I took my narrow seat, and the native in the
stern paddled carefully towards the carcass of the buffalo.