“Have it your own way. But come along, Smith. Here’s a chance to distinguish yourself. Step forward and lay hold of the end, and pull the thing out. We’ll cover you with our guns.”
“You don’t mean it, sir, do you?”
“Indeed, but I do.”
“Well, sir, begging your pardon, as a man as wants to do his duty, it ar’nt to be done.”
“All right, I’m not your captain, but if you will not, I must!”
“No, no, you’d better not,” cried Panton.
“Pooh, the brute’s dead, or nearly so. Will you go, Drew?”
“What, and pull that thing out of its hole? No. If it was a strange plant.”
“Yes, or some wonderful mineral, but a huge snake. Ugh!”
“Hold my gun, Smith,” said Oliver. “I mean to have that fellow’s skin, but I expect he will be pretty heavy.”