among the boys when I was a very small kiddie.
But now I rather like it. Don't you?"

"Yes. Very much... Why, what's the matter now?"

For certain shrill shouts were audible from the thick of the bush, but
at no great distance away. They recognised Fred's voice, and he was
hallooing like mad.

"Lyn! Mr Blachland! Quick--quick! Man, here's a whacking big snake!"

"Oh, let's go and see!" cried the girl, hurriedly putting down her
drawing things, and springing to her feet. "No--no. You stay here.
I'll go. You're quite safe here. Stay, do you hear?"

She turned in surprise. Her companion was quite agitated.

"Why, it's safe enough!" she said with a laugh, but still wondering.
"I'm not in the least afraid of snakes. I've killed several of them.
Come along."

And answering Fred's shouts she led the way through the grass and stones
at an astonishing pace, entirely disregarding his entreaties to allow
him to go first.

"There! There!" cried Fred, his fist full of stones, pointing to some
long grass almost hiding a small boulder about a dozen yards away.
"He's squatting there. He's a big black ringhals. I threw him with
three stones--didn't hit him, though. Man, but he's `kwai.' Look,
look! There!"

Disturbed anew by these fresh arrivals, the reptile shot up his head
with an ugly hiss. The hood was inflated, and waved to and fro
wickedly, as the great coil dragged heavily over the ground.

"There! Now you can have him!" cried Fred excitedly, as Blachland
stooped and picked up a couple of large stones. These, however, he
immediately dropped.

"No. Let him go," he said. "He wants to get away. He won't interfere
with us."

"But kill him, Mr Blachland. Aren't you going to kill him?" urged the
boy.

"No. I never kill a snake if I can help it. Because of something that
once happened to me up-country."

"So! What was it?" said the youngster, with half his attention fixed
regretfully on the receding reptile, which, seeing the coast clear, was
rapidly making itself scarce.

"That's something of a story--and it isn't the time for telling it now."

But a dreadful suspicion crossed the unsophisticated mind of the boy.
Was it possible that Blachland was afraid? It did not occur to him that
a man who had shot lions in the open was not likely to be afraid of an
everyday ringhals--not at the time, at least. Afterwards he would think
of it.

They went back to where they had been sitting befo