"Thank you!" he said brusquely. "I shall never dare to come near you after that."
"Except by moonlight?" she suggested, with the impudent audacity of a child.
What reply he would have made to that piece of nonsense he sometimes wondered afterward, but circumstances prevented his making any. The words had only just passed her lips when she sprang to her feet with a wild shriek of horror, shaking her arm with frantic violence.
"A snake!" she cried. "Take it away! Take it away! It's on my wrist!"
Phil Turner, though young, was accustomed to keep his wits about him, and, luckily for the girl, her agony did not scare them away. He had seized her arm in a fierce grip almost before her frenzied appeal was uttered. A small snake was coiled round her wrist, and he tore it away with his free hand, not caring how he grasped it. He tried to fling the thing from him, but somehow his hold upon it was not sufficient. Before he knew it the creature had shot up his sleeve.
The next instant he had shaken it down again with a muffled curse and was trampling it savagely and vindictively into the stones at his feet.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, wheeling sharply.
"No," gasped Audrey, "no! But you—"
"Yes, the little beast's bitten me," he returned. "You see—"