Once we got on firm land we never said a word, but made off for the middle of the island, where the big butternut trees were, because we knew we were less likely to run into snakes or poison ivy there. When we got among the trees and stopped, panting for breath, I says:
“I dunno whether I brushed agin any poison ivy, but there didn’t no snakes bite me. I heard one, though.”
“I heard two,” Mark spluttered; “and I heard somethin’ a-rustlin’ off through the grass. I guess there’s more’n a million around here.”
Sammy had carried up a little ax and a bundle of other things which he dumped on the ground in front of us.
“Now make fire,” says he. “Get warm. Get dry. Trees all round so nobody see. Can’t see smoke in dark, eh? Down here good place.” He pointed to a little hollow with brush growing all around it and trees along the ridge.
Mark and I didn’t feel like moving around much. I had heard a rattler won’t bother you if you don’t bother him, and nobody has any idea that poison ivy will sneak up and nip you while you’re standing quiet. Sammy didn’t seem to be worried, though, for he hustled around gathering dry wood. But before he started out I noticed he got him a good big club.
We were tired, but we didn’t sit down. We could have sat down, but we didn’t want to; we might have sat on a snake. Now, if a rattler is going to bite you I can’t see what difference it makes whether he does it when you’re on your feet or lying on your back, but I s’pose it’s natural to feel safer on your feet.
Pretty soon Sammy had the fire made, not a very big one, and went off to see if it showed. He walked around it in all directions and came back satisfied. He was the most careless fellow of snakes I ever heard of.
“Now get fish,” he said, and took his lines and hooks and bait; and off he smashed across the island, leaving Mark and me alone. Maybe you won’t believe it, but Mark didn’t seem like much company. There was enough of him, goodness knows, but it didn’t seem to be the right kind. He told me afterward he felt the same way about me. He sat on top of a stump close to the fire, with his feet pulled up out of danger and a club in his hand. I was on another stump and if my club was smaller than his it wasn’t my fault. I got the biggest one I could find.
“Well,” says he (it was the first good chance we’d had to talk since I came sprawling into the boat) “where’d you come from all of a s-s-sudden?”