have come here to enjoy with me a bit of open day. My hook touched the
stream; my line ran taut; my rod almost snapped from my hands. I
clutched it with all my strength. Every muscle of arms, legs, and body
was bent to land that gigantic fish. That it was gigantic I was sure,
from the power of its rush. I pitted my weight against his and felt
him give way. Then, shouting in exultation, I fell over backward. I
saw him leave the water, not quite the leviathan I had fancied; I saw
him fly over my head and heard him flopping behind me. Getting to my
feet, I turned to rush at my prize and capture him. I was
checked--first by my ears, for in them rang the sharp whir of a rattle.
Cold blood shot from my heart to the tips of my toes and the top of my
head. I needed nothing more to hold me back, but there before my eyes
was the other visitor to this pleasant sunny spot, his head rising from
his coiled body, his tail erect and lashing in fury.

Since that day I have learned that the rattler when disturbed by man
will seek refuge in flight, and fights only when cornered. This
particular snake, I think, must have been told that a boy will glide
away into the bushes if a chance is given him, for he seemed determined
to stand his ground and let me flee. But where was I to escape when he
held the narrow way to the bank, and behind me roared the stream, grown
suddenly to mighty width and depth? How was I to move at all when
every nerve was numbed by the icy currents which swept through my
veins? Could I escape? Was it not foreordained that I should meet my
end in these woods? Had I not spurned the chance of life given me
through the prophecies of good Mr. Pound and the warning of the squire?

The snake before me grew to the size of a boa-constrictor. The brook
behind me roared in my ears like Niagara. The snake began to drive his
head toward me, showing his fangs as though he were making a
reconnoissance of the air before his spring. He was so terrible that I
knew that when he did hurl himself at me I must go backward and fulfil
the prophecy of Mr. Pound. I had forgotten the man who saw through the
top of his hat. I awaited helplessly the triumph of Mr. Pound.

From out of the bush, from out of the air, as though impelled by a
spirit hand, a long stick swung. It fell upon my enemy's head and
drove it to the ground. He lifted his head and turned from me,
striking madly, but the rod fell again upon his back. He