“Well, look at me,” said Pinkey. And indeed, they saw now that he was completely soaked.
“Why, he must ’a’ sent a stream like a fire-hose!” said the brakeman.
“He did,” agreed Pinkey. “It hit me so hard it knocked me backward down that pile o’ coal,” and he rubbed his head ruefully.
The three men in the cab stared at each other in amazement. A snake that could knock a man down with a stream of water!
“Well,” said Bill Michaels, grimly, at last, “all I kin say is that if they ever puts that snake on exhibition th’ biggest circus tent on earth won’t hold th’ crowds.”
“I’m goin’ up t’ take a look at him,” announced the brakeman, grasping the rake.
“I’ll go with you,” said Allan, reflecting that, after all, a snake which did nothing more than deluge its assailants with water was not so very dangerous, and he followed the brakeman up the pile of coal.
The latter reached the top and peered cautiously over. The next instant, his cap flew from his head, carried away by a stream of water which whistled past him and fell upon Allan. The brakeman ducked, and the two crouched for a moment staring into each other’s eyes.
“Well, I’ll be blamed!” said the brakeman, hoarsely.
“Did you see anything?” asked Allan.