s reptiles, and helping the doctor by each
seizing his horse's rein.

"A pretty narrow escape," cried the latter. "Why, the place is alive
with the reptiles."

"Looks like it, sir," said Griggs. "Dessay we're standing on some of
their holes now."

"But don't you see?" cried Chris excitedly; "that second one's pinned by
the tail. When I let my end fall it must have caught it fast."

"Rather a pity," said Griggs cynically. "It must have spoiled the
rattle. S'pose it hurts too. Look at him!--That's no good, my beauty.
Stone can't feel. Ah, you idiot, you don't belong to the wise serpents
we read about. Look at him biting at the stone."

"In impotent malice," said the doctor, watching the frantic efforts of
the reptile.

"That chap's safe enough now, Squire Chris."

"Safe! I shouldn't like to risk going near him."

"But you might; he's held fast by that tail of his, and all he could do
would be to thrash you with his long body."

"And bite," said Chris.

"Nay; his biting would go for nothing now."

"What about his fangs?"

"Snapped off like points of glass. They were sharp enough and poisonous
enough, but bound to say the poison's all out on the stone, along with
the teeth. Razors are very sharp and would make horrible cuts, but not
after you'd been chopping a piece of stone with them like that, eh,
doctor?"

"I think you are right, Griggs," said the doctor, who seemed fascinated
by the reptile's impotent struggles.

"Well, you are a sneak," cried Griggs. "Gahn with you! I'd put my tail
between my legs if I were you, only you haven't got none. That's right;
rattle away. I say, I hope he hasn't gone to fetch a lot of his mates
to pitch into us."

"That's not likely," said the doctor, as he watched the bigger and free
snake gliding swiftly away, heedless of the struggles of its companion,
which was evidently growing exhausted by its furious efforts to release
the lower portion of its body.

"What are you going to do?" said the doctor quickly, as Griggs handed
him his horse's rein again.

"I'm going to put that chap out of his misery, sir," replied the
American.

"No, no; don't fire. It's waste of a charge."

"Not a-going to, sir. There's more ways of killing a cat, you know,
than hanging it. Eh, Squire Chris?"

As he spoke Griggs put his hand to his belt, in which a stout keen
hunting or bowie-knife was stuck, and drew out the glittering blade.

"Going to cut his head off?" said