It was the danger-signal of a rattlesnake—the harsh alarm that is unmistakable even when heard for the first time, and the sinuous green thing was poised in the centre of the tent, with head thrown back in the attitude to strike. It had been startled by Holden's sudden movement on awakening, and now was armed to repel its supposed enemy.
The man dared not move, for the least motion of a muscle might be sufficient to frighten the deadly little rope of flesh, and then——?
The continued sound of the rattle had roused Arnold by this time; but at his first stirring Holden spoke, though he managed to do so without moving his lips.
"Keep still. There's a rattlesnake in the tent. It's got an eye on me, and——"
But the rest of the sentence was choked, for the man's blood suddenly ran cold as another serpent came from among the fur robes, writhing its cold chill body across his bare hand as it lay at his side, and then moving towards its companion.
"There's another—just crawled over my hand," whispered Holden hoarsely.
"And I see a third—over there just beyond my feet!" said Arnold. "What on earth are we to do?"
"Lie still. We can do no more, unless we get a chance to make a bolt for it. But they are between us and the door."
The men waited in tense silence, preserving the immovable attitudes of statues until, as time passed, other serpents made their appearance and the teepee was swarming with a dozen at least. They seemed to be everywhere. They crawled over the robes and peered into the men's faces, they wriggled beneath the covering and even passed across Holden's bared throat. But they were no longer aggressive. They were more of an exploring than an antagonistic bent.
"I wonder where they have come from and why they have congregated in this particular tent?" Arnold questioned in a whisper, and, with the question, the explanation seemed to flash into Holden's mind like a flame of fire.