“Try again,” Batten says. “He’s probably gone by now.”
“Try yourself if you want to. If you expect me to step on this confounded island you row to some other spot.”
They argued about it a while and then pushed off. When they started away Sammy followed after, and I went along, too. I was so interested I plumb forgot about snakes myself. They rowed about a hundred feet and then tried it again, but Sammy was there first. As soon as Bill put his foot on the ground away went that Kr-r-r-r-r-r, and back he scrambled into the boat.
“Must be alive with them,” he panted. “Hear that one?”
HE LET OUT A YELL AS LOUD AS A LOCOMOTIVE WHISTLE
“I heard him,” says Batten. “We’ll try another place.”
They tried again three times, but every time Sammy was there to rattle. At the last place Bill got mad at Batten and says: “This is a fool thing, prowling around this island. Nobody ever landed on it—there’s a snake under every blade of grass. If you want to go ashore, all right; but me, I’ll stay right in the boat, engine or no engine.”
“They do seem sort of thick,” Batten says; and he didn’t make any offer to go ashore himself. “We might as well go home. Tomorrow we can set out to look for them again.” He stopped a minute and says, “Changed your opinion of rattlesnakes, Bill?”
Bill just grunted, and then they rowed off up the river and out of our sight.