I pushed the canoe into the rushes within four yards of the carcass, keeping to windward to avoid the sickening smell.
I had not been long in this position before the body suddenly rolled over as though attacked by something underneath the water, and the next moment the tall reeds brushed against the sides of the canoe, being violently agitated in a long line, evidently by a crocodile at the bottom.
The native in the stern grew as pale as a black can turn with fright, and instantly began to paddle the canoe away.

This, however, I soon replaced in its former position, and then took his paddle away to prevent further accidents.

There sat the captain of the fragile vessel in the most abject state of terror.

We were close to the shore, and the water was not more than three feet deep, and yet he dared not jump out of the canoe, as the rushes were again brushing against its sides, being moved by the hidden beast at the bottom.

There was no help for him, so, after vainly imploring me to shove the canoe into deep water, he at length sat still.
In a few minutes the body of the buffalo again moved, and the head and shoulders of a crocodile appeared above water and took a bite of some pounds of flesh.