She struck at him wildly with the pole, and in a fury he rushed the raft, upsetting Kathlyn.
The crocodile sank and for a moment lost sight of Kathlyn, who waded frantically to the bank, up which she scrambled.

She turned in time to see the crocodile's tearful [Transcriber's note: fearful ?] eyes staring up at her from the water's edge.

He presently slid back into his slimy bed; a few yellow bubbles, and he was gone.
Kathlyn's heart became suddenly and unaccountably swollen with rage; she became primordial; she wanted to hurt, maim, kill.

Childishly she stooped and picked up heavy stones which she hurled into the water.
The instinct to live flamed so strongly in her that the crust of civilization fell away like mist before the sun, and for a long time the pure savage (which lies dormant in us all) ruled her.

She would live, live, live; she would live to forget this oriental inferno through which she was passing.
She ran toward the jungle, all unconscious of the stone she still held in her hand.