The weaker, more timid Nemite was not far behind. He had never been so scared and he, too, was pumping adrenaline. He was moving faster than ever before. They were nearly at the canoes and he tripped and fell face down in the sand. He quickly got up. He was running again. Something sharp hit his back and momentarily took his wind.

Goorbay was at the canoes. He was trying desperately to push one out into the river. Nemite arrived and helped. The canoe was moving. The crowd was getting closer. They got the canoe in the water just as the villagers arrived. Goorbay was in the canoe, now, and Nemite was up to his knees in the river. He pushed and jumped at the same time. Just as he was about to land on the canoe he
felt a hand on his ankle. He kicked.

He fell back in the water. Now he was up to his waist. He gave a mighty leap and was on the canoe. Goorbay was paddling as hard and fast as he could.

Immediately the villagers that were in the water turned and hurried for shore. They knew the dangers of the river at high water and wanted no part of it. Some of the villagers threw stones and sticks at the canoe, but to no avail. As a group, the villagers had turned into a mob, mindless and angry.

Yet, they had to stand there and watch the fugitives escape. Some wanted to get into other canoes and pursue the men, but Mazunta
prevented it. There had been enough action this day and these men would no longer be a problem to the village. It was plain to see why he was elected leader. Not only was his stature and bearing somewhat regal, but the man was quick of mind and sound of judgment. The villagers always responded favorably to his wisdom.

The ruckus on the beach and in the water made quite a noise. The villagers were not the only ones aroused. A little up river two crocodiles silently slipped into the water. Nature and instinct had long taught them that where there was thrashing in the water there was often a meal.

The men were now about two to three hundred feet or a hundred meters from shore and down river by about the same distance.

Suddenly there was a scream. The villagers turned back and looked. A crocodile had attacked the canoe. There was a huge chunk missing out of the top rail where the croc had bitten. Goorbay was paddling as hard as he could. CRUNCH! SNAP! SHAKE! Another attack, this time from the other side of the canoe. The canoe shook visibly. The men were terrified and the the shaking had put them off balance. They fell. The screams were both loud and muffled.

All the villagers could see were hands and legs flailing up in the air,
and the terrible telltale signs of the boiling, bubbling, thrashing water. In seconds it was over.

The canoe was slowly floating down the river void of its inhabitants. The river was now silent once more. A mood of soberness prevailed about the village.

These villagers have ...