n, and I shall not have such a chance as he has, for the
head will be darting about in all directions."

Then I began to wish I had gone first, and hit at it as it lay, with all
my might.

Too late now, I knew; and as I saw in imagination Morgan lying helpless
there, and myself striking hard at the snake, never taking into
consideration the fact that after a deadly stroke the animal would
rapidly try to escape, and glide away.

Morgan was now so near that I saw the shadow of his head begin to creep
over the snake, and it loomed so black and heavy that I wondered why the
reptile did not feel it and wake up.

Then I stood fast as if turned to stone, as I watched my companion
softly extend the pole he carried, with the fork nearer and nearer the
creature's neck, to remain perfectly motionless for a moment or two.
There was a darting motion, and Morgan stood pressing the staff down as
the serpent leaped into life, writhing, twining, and snapping its body
in waves which ran from head to the tail which quivered in the air,
sending forth a peculiar low, dull, rattling noise, and seeming to seek
for something about which to curl.

"I've got him, Master George. Come along now; it's your turn."

I sprang forward to see that the evil-looking head was held down close
to the ground, and that the jaws were gaping, and the eyes bright with a
vindictive light, literally glittering in the sun.

"Can you hold him?" I said, hoarsely.

"Oh, yes; I've got him pretty tight. My! See that? He is strong."

For at that moment the snake's tail struck him, and twined about his
left leg; untwined, and seemed to flog at him, quivering in the air the
while, but only after writhing horribly, twisting round the pole which
pressed it down, and forming itself into a curious moving knot.

"I can't hit at it now," I said, hoarsely; "it will strike away the
pole."

"Yes; don't hit yet. Wait a bit till he untwissens himself; then give
it him sharp, look you."

"You won't let it go?" I said.

"Not a bit of it, my lad. Too fond of Morgan Johns to let him stick his
fangs into me. Now you've got a chance. No, you haven't; he's twisted
up tighter than ever. Never mind, wait a bit; there's no hurry."

"But you are torturing it so," I cried.

"Can't help it, Master George. If I didn't, he'd torture me and you
too. Well, he does twissen about. Welsh eel's nothing to him."

For the snake in its rage and pain kept twining about the pol