Mass' George

Then I began to wish I had gone first, and hit at it as it lay, with all my might.

Too late now, I knew; and as I saw in imagination Morgan lying helpless there, and myself striking hard at the snake, never taking into consideration the fact that after a deadly stroke the animal would rapidly try to escape, and glide away.

Morgan was now so near that I saw the shadow of his head begin to creep over the snake, and it loomed so black and heavy that I wondered why the reptile did not feel it and wake up.

Then I stood fast as if turned to stone, as I watched my companion softly extend the pole he carried, with the fork nearer and nearer the creature's neck, to remain perfectly motionless for a moment or two.

There was a darting motion, and Morgan stood pressing the staff down as the serpent leaped into life, writhing, twining, and snapping its body in waves which ran from head to the tail which quivered in the air, sending forth a peculiar low, dull, rattling noise, and seeming to seek for something about which to curl.

"I've got him, Master George. Come along now; it's your turn."

I sprang forward to see that the evil-looking head was held down close to the ground, and that the jaws were gaping, and the eyes bright with a vindictive light, literally glittering in the sun.

"Can you hold him?" I said, hoa.r.s.ely.

"Oh, yes; I've got him pretty tight. My! See that? He is strong."

For at that moment the snake's tail struck him, and twined about his left leg; untwined, and seemed to flog at him, quivering in the air the while, but only after writhing horribly, twisting round the pole which pressed it down, and forming itself into a curious moving knot.

"I can't hit at it now," I said, hoa.r.s.ely; "it will strike away the pole."

"Yes; don't hit yet. Wait a bit till he untwissens himself; then give it him sharp, look you."

"You won't let it go?" I said.

"Not a bit of it, my lad. Too fond of Morgan Johns to let him stick his fangs into me. Now you've got a chance. No, you haven't; he's twisted up tighter than ever. Never mind, wait a bit; there's no hurry."

"But you are torturing it so," I cried.

"Can't help it, Master George. If I didn't, he'd torture me and you too. Well, he does twissen about. Welsh eel's nothing to him."

For the snake in its rage and pain kept twining about the pole, treating that as the cause of all its suffering. Morgan stood there full of excitement, but though longing to deliver a blow that should paralyse if it did not kill our enemy, I could not get the slightest chance.

"Ah, we ought to have had a cut at him before he twined about my pole,"

said Morgan, after this had been going on for some minutes; "but it wasn't your fault; there wasn't time."

"No," I said, gloomily, "there was no time. Now then, hold tight."

I made a rapid stroke at the long, lithe body which suddenly untwisted to its full length, but my rake-handle only struck the ground, for the serpent was quicker than I, and it threw itself once more in a series of quivering folds about Morgan's pole.

"Well, he is strong," cried the latter. "But I have it.

"But will that be safe?" I said. "Hadn't we better leave go and run away?"

"What, and leave a customer like this free to hunt about our place? Now you wouldn't like to do that, I know."

"No; I shouldn't like to do that," I said; "but it would be terrible if he got away."

"Well then, out with my knife--quick! I'm beginning to wish we'd left him alone, for it'll be chizzle for both of us if he do get loose."

I hastily took his knife from his pocket, and opened it.

"That's your style, Master George. Now then, stick it across my mouth, and then take hold just under my hands. You must press it down hard, or he'll heave himself out, for he's mighty strong, I can tell you. Got hold?"

"Yes," I said, as I took hold of the pole, keeping my feet as far away as I could from the writhing knot, for fear it should suddenly untwine and embrace my legs.

"That's right, press down hard. Think you can hold him?"

"I don't know; I think so."

"Now, look ye here, my lad, thinking won't do; you've got to hold him, and if you feel as you can't you must say so. Rattlesnakes arn't garden wums."

"I'll try, and I will hold it," I said.

"There you have it, then," he said, releasing the pole, and leaving it quivering and vibrating in my hands. "Now then, I'm going to wait till he untwines again, and then I'm going to have off his head, if he don't work it out before. If he do, you've got to run as hard as you can: jump right away, my lad, never mind me."

I nodded; I could not speak, and I stood holding down the pole, seeing the snake striving to draw its head back between the little p.r.o.ngs of the fork, and knowing that if it did our position would be terrible.

"Now then, hold him tight," cried Morgan; "I'm going to lay hold and draw him out a bit, so as to get a cut through somewhere."

I did not speak, but pressed down with all my might, feeling my eyes strained as, with a shudder of dread, I saw Morgan stoop and boldly seize hold of the snake.

But the touch only seemed to make the great living knot tighten, and after a try Morgan ceased.

"No," he said, "it won't do. I shall only drag him out, for I'm not at all sure about those nails. I say, my lad, I really do wish we had let him alone, or had a go at him with a gun."

I tried to answer, but no words would come, and I wanted to look hopelessly at Morgan, but I could not take my eyes off the great, grey, writhing knot which was always in motion, heaving and working, now loosening, now tightening up.

"Hah!" cried Morgan, suddenly, as once more the horrible creature threw itself out to full length, and he sprang forward to seize the neck just as a wave ran along the body from tail to head; and as I pressed the pole down hard, the head rose like lightning, struck Morgan right in the face, and I saw him fall backward, rolling over and over; while, after writhing on the ground a moment or two, the snake raised its bleeding head, and I saw that it was drawing back to strike.

I don't know how it happened exactly; I only can tell that I felt horribly frightened, starting back as Morgan fell over, and that then, as the snake was preparing to strike, being naturally slow and weak from its efforts, the pole I held in both hands came down heavily, and then again and again, till our enemy lay broken and twisting weakly, its back broken in two places, and the blood flowing from its mouth.

CHAPTER FIVE.

I was brought to myself again by a hearty shout just as I was trying to get rid of a shuddering sensation of fear, and wanting to go to Morgan's help--asking myself what I ought to do to any one who had been bitten by a rattlesnake.

"Brayvo! As they say, Master George. You did give it him well."

"But--Morgan--arn't you stung--bitten, I mean?" I faltered.

"Me? No, my lad. He gave me a flop on the cheek with the back of his head as he shook himself loose, and I didn't stop to give him another chance. But you did bring that down smart, and no mistake. Let's look at the end."

He took hold of the pole and examined the place where the two nails had been driven in to form the fork.

"Yes," he said, thoughtfully. "I was beginning to be afraid of that-- see here. This nail's regularly bent down, and it opened the fork out so that when he snapped himself like a cart-whip he shook himself clear.

Know better next time. I'll get a bit of iron or an old pitchfork, and cut the tines down short on purpose for this sort of game, Master George. Ah, would you?" he shouted, as he made a dart for where the snake was feebly writhing itself toward the undergrowth, and catching it by the tail s.n.a.t.c.hed it back to lie all together, writhing slowly.

"Wait till I find my knife. Oh, here it is," he said. "No. Never mind, give me yours. I'll look afterwards. Dropped it when I rolled over yonder."