"It was a capital plan, Davis, and if we ever take possession of
these rivers, we shall have to do something of that sort to get
rid of the brutes. Are the Malays afraid of them?"

"I don't know, Mr. Parkhurst, but I think they are. I had a chat
with a mate I met in the Myrtle, which went home the day after we
relieved them here. He had been up some of the rivers, and told me
that every village had a bathing place palisaded off so that the
alligators could not get at the bathers."

"Well, there is one thing--we shall have to be very careful when
we are out in boats, for if we were to run upon a sunken log and
knock a hole in the boat's bottom, there would not be much chance
of our ever reaching the shore."

"You are about right there, sir. I aint afraid of Malays, but it
gives me the creeps down my back when I think of one of them chaps
getting hold of me by the leg. Bob Pearson told me that the only
chance you have is to send your knife, or if you can't get at
that, your thumbs, into the creature's eyes. But it would require
a mighty cool hand to find the eyes, with the brute's teeth in
one's leg, and the water so thick with mud that you could not see
an inch beyond your nose."

"Well, I will make a note of that, anyhow, Davis, and I will take
a good look at the next alligator I see dead, so as to know exactly
where to feel for its eyes."

On the second day the scenery changed. In place of the mangroves a
dense forest lined the river. Birds of lovely plumage occasionally