"If not, it's of no use to us now," said Mr. Kenyon sarcastically. "Here, Hal, go in and get the two guns hanging in my room. Bring the powder-flasks and pouches too. Be careful, my lad; the guns are loaded."
"Come along, Phra," said Harry.
"No, I am going back for my gun."
"I meant to lend you one of mine," said the merchant quietly. "You two lads ought to be able to shoot that reptile if we succeed in driving it out."
"Ah!" cried the young Siamese eagerly. "Thank you."
He looked gratefully at Mr. Kenyon, and then followed Harry into the bungalow.
"This is a nice job," said the latter. "We shall never drive the brute out. This place was built as if they wanted to make a snug, comfortable home for a boa constrictor. There are double floors, double ceilings, and double walls. There's every convenience for the brute, whether he wants to stay a week or a year."
"Never mind; it will be good fun hunting him. Where are the guns?"
"Here, in father's room," said the boy, leading the way into the lightly furnished bed-chamber with its matted floor and walls, bath, and couch well draped with mosquito net.
One side was turned into quite a little armoury, guns and swords being hung against the wall, while pouches, shot-belts, and powder-flasks had places to themselves.