“In the first place, I don’t believe it was a rattlesnake!” said Thad, positively.
“But it was an awful big, wicked looking snake, Thad; and if you’d seen the way it jumped at me——” began Step Hen.
“That’s one of the reasons I had for saying what I did,” Thad went on, “a rattlesnake never attacks any one, or any enemy. It always throws itself into a coil, and with head erect, and tail rattling a warning ‘don’t tread on me,’ waits to be attacked. This rule has no exception. A rattlesnake is almost helpless out of coil, and the very first thing he does is to curl up. He may lunge so hard at something as to throw himself half way out of coil; but as quick as a flash he’s back again, for he’s afraid something will get him.”
“Oh! is that so, Thad?” exclaimed Step Hen, still keeping one anxious eye on his bare leg, as though he half expected to see it begin to puff up visibly before his very eyes.
“Was this snake coiled when you first saw it?” demanded Thad.
“N—no.”
“What was it doing then, Step Hen?”
“I reckon it was crawlin’ along—yes, I know it was, because I remember how I got a fierce jolt when I was just going over the log, to see it with its old head raised, and showing its teeth.”
“And then it jumped at you?” Thad continued.
“And tried to wrap around me, after it bit me through my legging; but I guess I kicked some, because it dropped off, and ran away.”