"Oh yes, father; and Michael knows he did."
"That's right enough, sir; but I didn't mean to let the brute out."
"No, no, of course not," said Mr. Kenyon anxiously: "but if the serpent was in that basket a short time ago and is gone now, it must either be in one of the rooms here by the verandah or just beneath the house."
"Ow!" ejaculated Mike, with a look of horror, as he glanced round; and then he shouted as he pointed to an opening in one corner of the verandah, where a great bamboo had been shortened for the purpose of ventilating the woodwork beneath the bungalow, "That's the way he has gone, sir; that's the way he has gone."
It seemed only too probable, for it was just the kind of place in which a fugitive, gloom-loving reptile would seek for a hiding-place; while as if to prove the truth of Mike's guess there was a sharp, squeaking sound heard somewhere below the house, and one after the other three rats dashed out of the opening, darted across the verandah, and sprang into the garden, disappearing directly amongst the plants.
"Yes," said Mr. Kenyon; "the reptile seems to have gone under the house."
"And he will clear away all the rats, Sahib," said Sree, in a tone of voice which seemed to add, "and what could you wish for better than that?"
"But I think that my son and I would rather have the rats, my man.
What do you say, Hal?"
"Yes, father; of course. We can't live here with a horrible thing like that always lying in wait for us. How long did you say it was, Sree?"
"Two men and a half, Sahib."