"We'll hunt up a snakeless place in the broad daylight. The snakes can't be everywhere."
There seemed to be no help for it, and having anchored the rowboat in the middle of the stream, the young hunters proceeded to make themselves as comfortable as possible on board. They had the rubber cloth, and this they propped up on half-raised oars, making a sort of awning. They had to rest on the hard seats, with boxes and bundles between, and it was anything but comfortable. They were so close together Giant said it reminded him of sardines in a tin box. A sound sleep was out of the question, and they slumbered only by fits and starts.
"Now to clear out those snakes," said Snap, when it was daylight. "I wonder what we had best do first?"
"I have an idea," said Shep. "Let us go to yonder shore and cut some cedar boughs. We can set them on fire and each take one. Snakes hate fire, and they'll be sure to crawl away if we advance with the burning boughs close to the ground."
The suggestion was deemed an excellent one, and they lost no time in carrying it out. They got the driest cedar branches possible and set them into a blaze with little trouble. Then they went ashore with caution, advancing in a semi-circle on the places they thought the snakes must be.
To their amazement not a reptile was in sight! "Did you ever see the like?" ejaculated Whopper. "Is this true, or am I dreaming?"
"I know what has happened," said Snap. "The snakes have simply gone back to their nest."
"Well, leave them there by all means!" interposed the doctor's son.
"I wouldn't disturb their nap for the world."
With caution they moved around the camp, and lifted up the ends of the tent, and raised their cooking utensils.
"Who wants to stay here for breakfast?" asked Snap, dryly. "Don't all speak at once."