She told him, shuddering. "A horrible green thing—green as the grass. I think it had some black marking on its back. I'm not sure. I didn't stop to see. I—oh, Jack!" She broke off in swift consternation. "There is a dead lamb!"
"Ah!" said Jack, and strode across to the barn where it lay, stark and lifeless in the shade in which it had taken refuge from the afternoon heat.
"Oh, Jack!" cried Dot, in distress. "What can have happened to it? Not—not that hateful snake?"
"Not much doubt as to that," said Jack, grimly. "No, don't look too close! It's not a pretty sight. And don't cry, child! What's the good?"
He drew her away, his arm around her, holding her closely, comforting her. "It might have been you," he said.
She lifted her wet face from his shoulder. "It was—it would have been—but for—"
"All right," he interrupted. "Don't say any more!"
He left her to recover herself and went back to Fletcher Hill, sardonically awaiting him.
"On a wrong scent this time," he said. "She's lost one of the lambs from snake-bite, and it's upset her. She's a 'new chum,' you know."