Jack saw the flat, pitted head, the gleaming coil, the distended jaws, while the slightly elevated tail vibrated so rapidly with the warning which, once heard, can never be forgotten, that it looked hazy and mist-like. Before Fred, at imminent risk to himself, could bring down his clubbed gun with crushing force, Jack felt a sharp sting in his ankle and called out, in the extremity of terror:
"I'm bitten!"
He was not only terrified but angered, and whirling about, he brought down his gun with spiteful violence on the writhing body. The reptile struck again, but it was already wounded to that extent that its blow was erratic, and, though it came near reaching the hand of Jack, it missed by a safe margin.
CHAPTER IX.
NIGHT IN THE MOUNTAINS.
One of the singular facts connected with the crotalus species is the ease with which it is killed. The writer once ended the career of a huge specimen with a single blow of a whip-lash. The first impact of Fred Greenwood's rifle-barrel upon the hideous reptile coiled in the scrub bushes inflicted a fatal wound, though the serpent continued blindly striking for a minute or two longer, and responded viciously to the attack of the scared and angry Jack Dudley, who struck it several times after it had ceased to struggle and all danger was past. A person's first impulse, after being bitten by a snake, is to kill it, after which he looks after the wound he may have received.
But Fred had heard the dreadful exclamation of his comrade and caught him by his arm as he was about to bring down his last blow upon the reptile.
"O Jack, are you sure he bit you?" he asked in a tremulous voice.
"Yes; I felt the sting in my left ankle, like the prick of a needle."