quietly. But this--why
it had only to hurl itself its own length--or very little more--and
then?

She stood, perfectly motionless, her hands still as they were--in the
attitude of pinning on her hat. Her face had gone white and cold and
clammy, and her eyes dilated; yet she dared not turn them away from the
monster, or even lower them. A horrible fascination was upon her, such
as she had often read about and openly scoffed at. And then all upon
her mind was borne the tales she had heard from natives and up-country
men about a very rare and terrible variety of the _imamba_, which
reached an enormous size, and, unlike the serpent tribe in general, was
actually aggressive and would attack without provocation. But this
species was so rare that many even doubted its actual existence.

She dared not move--dared not stir a finger. Her hands were still
raised to her head, but she dared not move them down, however gently.
Her arms were aching with the strain, and still she stood staring at the
glittering eyes, the gently waving neck, the black, forked tongue
trickling forth and then withdrawing, and it seemed to her that that
awful festoon of coils was gliding imperceptibly nearer. A lifetime of
agony seemed concentrated in those few moments. Should she break the
spell, and dash away as fast as ever she could run? And then she
suddenly recognised that this was just what she was absolutely powerless
to do. She could not move. The dread fascination was complete.

From sheer exhaustion her uplifted arms dropped to her sides. The
movement either startled or enraged the formidable reptile, or both, for
it emitted a hideous, whistling kind of hiss, and with a quick movement
drew back its head and neck into a rigid curve as though to hurl itself
forward. And the girl was powerless to move.

Crack--crack!

Two reports, like pistol shots, rang out behind her, and simultaneously
a voice.

"Step back quietly. I'll take care of this."

Again the sharp reports, this time three--in rapid succession. But they
were not from any firearm: they proceeded from a remarkably well plaited
and well wielded raw-hide whip.

All unperceived a horseman had entered the open glade. Upon him the
infuriated reptile now turned--which was precisely what he wanted to
happen.

Backing his steed, a process to which that intelligent quadruped was by
no means averse, he faced the great snake, firing a succession of whip
cracks at it.

"