“Flash your light in, Gif,” he said, for the illumination made by the kerosene lamp in the kitchen was rather dim. “If that snake is still on the shelf a dose of shot at such close quarters will soon finish him.”
With caution the two boys advanced into the kitchen of the bungalow. At first Gif flashed the light all over the floor, and especially in the corners.
“What about that thing over there, Jack?” he exclaimed suddenly.
“Only a dirty dishcloth,” answered the Rover boy.
Having made sure that no snake was lurking on the floor of the kitchen, Gif picked up a broom that was handy.
“I’ll shove the stuff off the shelf with this,” he said. “If you see anything of the snake, blaze away.”
“I sure will,” answered Jack, raising the double-barreled shotgun and placing his finger on one of the triggers.
The others had crowded to the doorway to see what was taking place, leaving Jeff still moaning and groaning in the living room. The colored man was sure that he was going to die—that he had been poisoned.
Holding up the searchlight so that the rays fell full upon the kitchen shelf, Gif elevated the end of the broom, and then, with a quick motion, sent the newspapers and magazines flying to the floor at one side of the stove.