Thad smiled.
“I’m sure now it was not a rattler,” he said. “No doubt it may have been a big black snake. They’re as fierce as they make them, and can whip a sluggish rattler every time, but they’re not poisonous at all, Step Hen.”
“Oh! I hope then it was a black snake!” exclaimed the other scout, with a sigh.
“Another thing,” said Thad, wishing to make it conclusive, so Step Hen might not keep on worrying about the affair. “A black snake bites, but as a general rule a rattlesnake opens his jaws until they stand almost perpendicular, so that he can lay bare his poison fangs. He sinks these two hollow teeth into his enemy, with a furious blow, and at the same time injects the poison. There is no known sure remedy for a rattlesnake’s poison. But this snake tried to bite you. There are the faint marks of teeth belonging to both the upper and the lower jaw. It’s all right, Step Hen; you’re in no danger. The poison would have begun to work before now, if it was there.”
“But you won’t take any chances, will you, Thad?” asked the other.
“I didn’t. I sucked just as hard as if I thought you were going to swell up, and have your heart affected,” said Thad.
“But to make sure, Thad, suppose you paint my leg with some of that purple stuff you carry with you,” pleaded Step Hen.
“Oh! you mean that solution of permanganate of potash,” replied the other.
“Yes, that’s the stuff.”
“But,” objected Thad, “it’s meant for scratches from the claws of carnivorous animals, so as to neutralize the virus that is apt to get in the blood, and give blood poisoning.”