The hollow under the trees was filled with sticks and dead leaves, and both Joe and the backwoodsman had to work for some time cleaning out the place.
Joe was bending close to the ground, and had a bunch of sticks in one hand when he heard a hiss to one side of him. He started, and on the instant saw a rattlesnake glide from among the roots of the tree, and glare at him with its beady eyes.
“A snake!” roared John Ford, and tumbled out of the opening without delay.
Joe started to follow his companion. But as he turned his foot caught in a rope-like root, and down he pitched headlong on his face. When he sat up the rattlesnake had shifted its position, and rested directly between the young pioneer and the open air.
There was no denying the fact that Joe was scared. The rattlesnake was large, and the youth had often heard of the fatal effects of a rattlesnake bite.
What to do he did not know. If he ran for the open air he would have to pass close to the reptile, and a jump over the snake was out of the question, owing to the closeness of the tree roots overhead.
It was John Ford who gave him a bit of good advice.
“Jump up, lad, and catch the roots!” he sang out. “I’ll get my gun.”
As Ford uttered the words the rattlesnake prepared to strike at Joe. Up went the youth, and not only caught the roots over his head with his hands, but also with his feet, drawing up his body as far as possible.
The rattlesnake leaped high in making its strike, but the fangs merely grazed the lower end of Joe’s hunting shirt. Then it hissed again, and prepared to climb the roots from the rear of the opening under the trees.