Leon leaned closer to him. ‘Aim for the corner of his smile, exactly at water level, under the eye.’ The last words were still on his lips when the Winchester roared. Watching through the binoculars Leon saw the tiny splash as the bullet flicked the surface directly under the wicked little eye, then went on to smash into the croc’s head.
‘Perfect!’ Leon shouted, as he jumped to his feet.
‘
‘
‘
Abruptly the massive body froze, the tail arched and went rigid, and the crocodile lay motionless on the surface for moment, then sank, disappearing beneath the green waters.
‘We’re going to lose him!’ Kermit shouted anxiously, and hopped on one leg as he pulled off his boots.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Leon grabbed him.
‘I’m going to pull him out.’
Kermit struggled to free himself, but Leon held him easily. ‘Listen, you idiot, you go into that water and the croc’s grandpapa will be waiting to meet you.’
‘But we’re going to lose him! I have to fish him out!’
‘No, you don’t! Manyoro and Loikot will wait here until tomorrow when the croc will have blown up with gas and floated to the surface. Then you and I will come back and put ropes on it.’
Kermit quietened down a little. ‘He’s going to be washed away downstream.’
‘The river is no longer flowing. This is a blind pool. Your croc ain’t going anywhere, chum.’
It was late afternoon, and they were sitting under the fly of Leon’s tent, drinking tea and endlessly going over the details of the crocodile hunt, when there was an excited stir and a hubbub ran through the encampment, indicating the imminent return of the President. Kermit jumped up. ‘Come on!’ he said to Leon. ‘Let’s go see what my old man’s bagged.’ He strode away, but turned back. ‘Don’t say anything about the croc. He won’t believe it until he sees it.’
Teddy Roosevelt rode into camp, and they were there to greet him when he dismounted and tossed the reins to a syce. He smiled when he saw Kermit, and there was a triumphant twinkle in the eyes behind the steel-rimmed spectacles.
‘Hi, Dad,’ Kermit called. ‘Did you have a good day?’
‘Not bad. I opened the lion account.’
Kermit’s face fell. ‘You got a lion?’
‘Yep!’ the President affirmed, still smiling. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. Kermit saw a party of bearers coming down the trail through the trees. They were carrying a tan body slung on a pole between them. They dumped their burden next to the taxidermy tent, and three of the Smithsonian scientists came out to view the day’s bag. They cut the ropes that bound the paws of the lion to the pole, and stretched the carcass on the ground to measure and photograph it.
Kermit laughed with relief. Even he, who knew little about them, could see that this was an immature lioness. ‘Hey, Dad!’ He chuckled as he turned to his father. ‘If you call that a real lion, I might as well call myself the President of the United States of America. She’s a baby.’
‘You’re right, son,’ his father agreed, still smiling smugly. ‘Poor little sweetheart, I had to shoot her. She wouldn’t let us get close to the body of her mate. She guarded it ferociously. At least we can have her mounted as part of a family group in one of the showcases in the African Hall at the museum. What do you think?’ He directed the question at George Lemmon, the chief of the team of scientists.
‘We’re delighted to have her, sir. She’s a fine specimen. Her hide is unblemished, it still has the immature spotting of a cub, and her teeth are perfect.’
The President looked back over his shoulder and remarked comfortably, ‘Oh, good! They’re bringing the male in now.’ Another team of bearers was just emerging from the forest. Four were staggering under the weight of the huge body they were carrying.
‘Good gracious! That looks like a very fine lion to me.’ Frederick Selous had come from his tent in his shirtsleeves, carrying his sketchpad. ‘We must make sure that those fellows handle it carefully. It would never do to have the skin abraded or damaged.’
