“You come from the city, or you wouldn’t be sticking up your nose at rattlers. I bet you never saw a rattler.”
“If I did see one I wouldn’t run away from it.”
“Um!” grunts Batten.
“There’s a chance they’re hiding there,” Bill went on, in a minute. “We went all around it and then down-stream without catching a glimpse of them. I believe they stopped off here and hid.”
“We’ll soon find out, anyhow,” Batten says, and turned the boat toward the shore. “You’re not afraid of snakes,” he says, sort of sneering, “so you step out first. Don’t be afraid.”
I couldn’t see Sammy, but I could see Batten and Bill. A couple of strokes of the oars brought the boat up against the marshy shore. I could hear the keel grate against the bottom.
“Out you go,” says Batten, and Bill stood up and stepped ashore.
Then Sammy rattled. “Kr-r-r-r-r-r,” he went. It sounded as if it was right under Bill’s feet. Well, sir, you should have seen Bill jump. He didn’t even wait to turn around, but just went up in the air backward and let out a yell as loud as a locomotive whistle. He landed one foot in the boat and the other in the water.
“No,” says Batten, and I bet he was grinning mean, “you wouldn’t run away from a snake, you wouldn’t. Oh no!”
“I most stepped on him,” Bill says, shaky-like. “When he struck he just missed my leg. I felt him.” Now, that shows you what a fellow’s imagination will do for him, especially if he’s startled.