“Never mind,” said Philip, “I’m tired. Let’s sit down here and let him come to us.”
Saying which he took his seat upon the mossy trunk of an old fallen tree, an example which Fred was not long in following; and there they waited, enjoying the delicious sensation of rest felt in a shady spot after a long, toilsome walk, and thinking very little about poor Harry.
“What a while Harry is,” said Fred at last; “isn’t he coming?”
“Oh, yes; he’ll be here presently,” said Philip; “he’ll be sure to find us.”
After a few minutes’ pause, “What’s that?” said Fred, pointing to some rustling and moving leaves close by the opening where they sat.
“Hush,” said Philip; “don’t move; it’s a stoat or a weasel. You’ll see him directly;” and in a moment after a long thin body came creeping out from the herbage. But it was neither weasel nor stoat, but a very large snake, which came right across the open space they were in—making Fred turn quite pale, for his imagination immediately whispered to him of poison fangs, rattlesnakes, cobras, and all sorts of venomous brutes. But the snake had no idea of touching the intruders on the silence of the forest, but made directly for a spot upon the other side of the opening, which he would soon have reached if it had depended upon Fred; but Philip possessed the animosity of his race against the serpent tribe, so caught up a rough branch that he had previously broken from a tree and slightly trimmed with his knife, and rushed after the retreating snake.
The poor thing struggled hard for its life and liberty, but in spite of its struggles and menacing attitude, Philip struck at it boldly with his stick and soon rendered his adversary hors de combat, when the victor dragged his prize to his companion, and displayed to his wondering gaze a snake upwards of a yard long, and very thick. Philip then secured his trophy by slipping a noose of whipcord over its head, and tying it to his stick.
At last, time slipped by and no Harry made his appearance, while plenty of indications showed that evening was fast closing in: moths began to flutter about the different leaves; every now and then, too, came the low evening drowsy hum of the cockchafer, while Fred gave a regular jump when a gigantic stag-beetle stuck him right in the cheek and then fell crawling about in his lap.
“Ouf!” said Fred, “take the beast off. Is it poisonous?”
Philip laughed heartily at his cousin, as he assured him to the contrary; but the beetle saved him the trouble of brushing his horny body away by making a fresh flight, and disappearing over the trees.