"Hadn't we better try a match, sir? Them there bushes are that ily
evergreen stuff as'll burn like fun."

"Yes," said the skipper. "We don't want the stuff for protection, and
the enemy might throw a light in and burn us out. But look here, Chips,
are there any sparks inside there, likely to set the wood-work alight?"

"Nay, sir; it was all fluffy touch-and-go stuff. There's nothing there
now but smoke."

The man moved as he spoke towards the clump of ornamental shrubs in
which the big snake had taken sanctuary, the two lads, each armed with a
joist carried lance-fashion, following him up, while the skipper hurried
into the building with one of the men, to satisfy himself that the
carpenter's words were correct.

The remainder stood by to watch the firing of the clump of bushes, the
news that they hid a serpent putting all upon the _qui vive_.

"Take care Chips," said Poole anxiously. "They are dangerous,
treacherous things. We don't want to get you bitten."

"Of course you don't, my lad; but tchah! They aren't half so dangerous
as I am with a box of matches in my hand. Here, wait a moment; which
way's the wind? Oh, this 'ere. Blest if I know whether it's north
south, or east west, for I've quite lost my bearings. Anyhow, it don't
blow towards the house. Now then, I think I'll just have an armful of
these 'ere plantain-leaves and them there bamboo. They're the things to
burn."

He hastily collected as many dry great ragged banana-leaves as he could
grasp, laid them in a heap to windward of the clump, and jumped back
quickly, grinning hugely as he turned to the boys.

"He's there still," he said; "I heard him whisper like a sick goose as I
popped that stuff down."

"We'd better look out, then, on the other side," cried Fitz, "or he'll
make a bolt. Shall I get my gun?"

"No, no," said Poole; "we must have no firing now."

Fitz moved, joist in hand, towards the other side of the clump.

"Nay, you needn't do that, sir," cried the carpenter. "That's what we
want him to do."

"Oh, I see; you don't want there to be any waste," said Poole.

"Ugh!" shuddered Fitz, and the carpenter grinned as he hurriedly snapped
off as many dead bamboos as he could secure from a waving, feathery
group, bore the bundle the next minute to the edge of the clump of
shrubs, laid them on the heap of banana-leaves, and then rapidly applied
a burning match to the dry growth, which still retained a sufficiency of
inflamma