The carpenter paced along beside the joist, dividing it into three, and made a notch in two places with his axe, to begin the next minute delivering a sharp blow or two where he intended to break the joist. But at the first stroke the violent jar made the far end of the joist leap and come heavily down upon the gathered-together nest of leaves.
“Wo-ho!” cried the carpenter. “Steady there!”
“Eh, mon! Look at that!” yelled the cook, as there was a scuffling rush, and a thickish snake, about seven feet long, dashed out from its nest and made for the door.
There was a yell of dismay, and the men rushed here and there for the windows, to escape, the boys as eager as their companions.
It was only the carpenter who stood firm, and he made a chop with his axe at the reptile’s tail, but only to drive the blade into the dry earth a yard behind.
“After him, Camel!” he roared. “Don’t lose him, lad! He’d do to cook like a big eel. Yah, butter-fingers! You let him go! Why didn’t you try and catch him by the tail? Here, come back, all of you. Take hold of a joist or two and stir up them nest-like places in the corners. I dare say there’s some more. We shall be hungry by and by. Don’t let good dinners go begging like that. Here, Mr Burnett, sir, and you, Mr Poole, never you mind them cowardly lubbers; come inside and have a hunt. It’ll be a regular bit of sport.”
“Thanks, no,” said Fitz, who was looking in through one of the windows, Poole following his example at another.
“You had better mind, Chips,” said the latter. “I dare say there are several more there, and they may be poisonous.”
“So am I, sir,” said the carpenter, grinning. “Just you ketch hold of my axe.”
“What are you going to do?” said Poole, as he took hold of the handle.