No figure of bronze could have been more rigid than that of the old river-king as he stood erect upon the rock with the left foot advanced and the harpoon poised in his ready right hand above his head, while in the left he held the loose coils of rope attached to the ambatch buoy.

For about three minutes he stood like a statue, gazing intently into the clear and deep water beneath his feet.

I watched eagerly for the reappearance of the hippo; the surface of the water was still barren, when suddenly the right arm of the statue descended like lightning, and the harpoon shot perpendicularly into the pool with the speed of an arrow.

What river-fiend answered to the summons?
In an instant an enormous pair of open jaws appeared, followed by the ungainly head and form of the furious hippopotamus, who, springing half out of the water, lashed the river into foam, and, disdaining the concealment of the deep pool, charged straight up the violent rapids.

With extraordinary power he breasted the descending stream, gaining a footing in the rapids, about five feet deep.