Meanwhile Hope-Jones was feeling of him carefully, his arms, his body, and examining his head and neck.
“He’s as sound as a dollar,” he finally said.
“Of course I am,” Harvey replied rather sheepishly. “What’s all the row about, anyway?”
“Come, we’ll show you,” and the young men led him back to the tree and pointed to the dead snake.
Harvey did not understand even then what the scene meant. He saw his blankets lying to one side, where he had tossed them, and he saw the reptile in the place where he had slept. Then Hope-Jones related what had happened, and the lad turned pale again when the Englishman ended by saying:—
“Had not Ferguson’s aim been true you would be a dead boy, because I can recognize this snake as of a poisonous species, although I do not know the name.”
He turned the broad head over, and it was seen that the rifle bullet had entered the mouth and shattered the upper fang.
Harvey was silent for several minutes while Ferguson stooped over and measured the reptile, announcing that it was seven feet two inches long; then the boy said:—
“I can never, never find words to thank you.”
“Don’t mention that, Harvey,” was the reply, “but remember and keep with us at night. We’re in a strange land now, and there’s no telling what we may meet.”