"Yes, sliding--not rolling, as you'd expect a round thing to do down a steep like that, but jes' gently sliding, as though it were resting on a coat. There was nothing by it, nothing at all, and it was the most surprisin' sight I ever seed to watch that fine melon softly skimming over the grass and dodging all the stones. I was so lost, flabbergasted, unbalanced by this sight that I never saw what was awaiting the melon, down by the pool, until the last thing, when it slid, all of a sudden, into a dark hole. Into a dark hole--a sort of tunnel level with the take-off into the pool--and that hole, that tunnel, sonny, was the throat of the big devil-snake. All in a moment I saw that. The melon disappeared, the jaws of the snake came together, and a column of water shot into the air as he slid back into the pool." "So; and that's where the six melons went?" "Five, sonny; five--one of 'em was blown to smithereens by the gun. The five of 'em were swallowed by that devil-snake." "And how did he cut the stems so clean?" "That's where the mystery comes in, sonny. I expect you'll have to take six of the best that are left, sonny; and I'm going into town next week to get some dynamite to blow the bottom outer that pool. That devil-snake might take it into his head to swallow me one of these fishing nights." CHAPTER TWELVE. ABE PIKE AND THE BIG FISH. The Fish River was "down." It generally was down, in the sense of being low, but colonial rivers run by contraries--when they are down they are up. There had been a heavy fall of rain "up country," and the water rushing off the sun-baked surface poured like a flood between the high banks, sweeping, as we afterwards heard, a stone bridge away, and catching in its career a wagon and span of eighteen oxen at a drift which, at the time of crossing, had scarcely water enough to wet the feet. For many a mile the banks of the river are of red soil, and as the flood eats into the banks its waters are stained a dull brick colour, which hue is imparted to the Atlantic itself for miles along the coast as the red waters pour out into the sea, bearing with them a wonderful collection of flotsam in the shape of timber, dead stock, and live reptiles. Of late, railway sleepers formed no small part of the flotsam, and if work was slack we sometimes, when the river was down, spent a sloppy day on the banks fishing for these floating items. On hearing the news I rode off to pick up Uncle Abe, but finding him out, went to a spot on the bank which he particularly favoured, where a wide flat rock stood at the base of a krantz. He was not there, however, and the rock itself was covered by the flood, which reached half-way up the krantz, but it was evident he had been there, for from a cave in the rock, just above the lap of the waters, there issued a thin line of smoke, and on climbing along a ledge I saw signs of his occupation in a skin kaross, a dark lantern, a gun, and a few well-known traps which he