s spoil the snake-soup. Here, I know; I can
soon turn them out."

"How?" cried Poole, as the man stood the joist up against the wall.

"I'll soon show you," cried the carpenter, pulling out a match-box.

"You'll burn the place down."

"Nay," cried the man; "them corn-shucks will just flare up with a fizz;
I can trample them out before they catch the wood. You two be on the
look-out, for there's no knowing which window my gentlemen will make for
as soon as they find as it aren't the sun as is warming them up."

He struck a match as he spoke, let the splint get well alight, and then
stepping forward softly he stooped down to apply it to the pale, dry,
creamy-looking corn-leaves.

"Look out!" cried Fitz excitedly.

"Oh, my fingers are too hard to burn," growled the carpenter, ignoring
the notion of the danger being from the serpents; and he applied the
burning match to three places, letting the flame drop in the last,
before he stepped quickly back, watching the bright crackling flare
which rose in each spot where he had applied the match and then began to
run together to form one blaze.

"Why, there's nothing there," cried Poole.

"Oh, yes, there is, gen'lemen, and they're beginning to feel it. It's
so nice and warm that--Look, they are pulling their tails in under the
blanket to get their share. Now they says it's too hot. Look out; here
they come."

The warning was not needed, for there was a sharp, fierce hissing heard
plainly above the spluttering crackle of the burning husks, the pile was
violently agitated, and then the burning heap was heaved up and
scattered about in various directions, while, half-hidden by the smoke,
it seemed as if a couple of pieces of stout Manilla cable were being
furiously shaken upon the earthen floor.

"Murder!" shouted Poole, starting back from the window where he stood,
his action being involuntarily imitated by Fitz, who just caught a
glance of the snake that had startled his companion passing like a flash
over the window-sill, and making at what seemed to be an impossible
speed for a clump of bushes close at hand.

"That's one of them," cried Fitz breathlessly. "What about the other?"

_Bang! Bang! Thud! Thud_! came from inside the room, and then the
answer in the carpenter's gruff voice--

"I got him at last," he said. "He was a lively one. Reg'lar dodger.
Come and look here. It's all right; he's done. My! He is a whopper!"

The inclination to look in