The uproar in the kitchen was so terrific that all the boys in the living room of the bungalow leaped to their feet in alarm.
“I’s killed! I’s killed!” roared Jeff. “I’s stung to death!” and, with a clattering of a kettle on the floor, the colored man came dashing into the living room flourishing a frying pan in one hand.
“What is it, Jeff? What has happened?” questioned Gif.
“It’s a snake! A great big long snake! Right on the shelf over the stove!” wailed Jeff. He dropped the frying pan on the floor. “He done stung me on the hand and on the arm! I’s a dead man!” and he began to moan pitifully.
“What kind of a snake was it, Jeff?”
“Did he rattle?”
“Was it a blacksnake?”
“I don’t know what he was! He was behind some old newspapers and magazines! I done put my hand up there to get down a salt-shaker and he pushed his head out and stung me—stung me twice, right on the hand and on the wrist. I’s a dead man! Somebody run for a doctor. If I don’t gets a doctor I’ll be dead before mornin’,” and Jeff began to move around the living room, swinging his injured hand and moaning and groaning loudly.
Of course all of the boys were alarmed. They had had several adventures with snakes, some of them poisonous, and they knew that all that Jeff said might be true. On the other hand, they realized that the snake might be almost harmless.
Although they had left a large part of their luggage behind when starting on the walk through the woods, they had brought with them a shotgun and a pistol. Grabbing up the shotgun, Jack walked to the kitchen door.