“Now, look ye here, my lad, thinking won’t do; you’ve got to hold him, and if you feel as you can’t you must say so. Rattlesnakes arn’t garden wums.”
“I’ll try, and I will hold it,” I said.
“There you have it, then,” he said, releasing the pole, and leaving it quivering and vibrating in my hands. “Now then, I’m going to wait till he untwines again, and then I’m going to have off his head, if he don’t work it out before. If he do, you’ve got to run as hard as you can: jump right away, my lad, never mind me.”
I nodded; I could not speak, and I stood holding down the pole, seeing the snake striving to draw its head back between the little prongs of the fork, and knowing that if it did our position would be terrible.
“Now then, hold him tight,” cried Morgan; “I’m going to lay hold and draw him out a bit, so as to get a cut through somewhere.”
I did not speak, but pressed down with all my might, feeling my eyes strained as, with a shudder of dread, I saw Morgan stoop and boldly seize hold of the snake.
But the touch only seemed to make the great living knot tighten, and after a try Morgan ceased.
“No,” he said, “it won’t do. I shall only drag him out, for I’m not at all sure about those nails. I say, my lad, I really do wish we had let him alone, or had a go at him with a gun.”
I tried to answer, but no words would come, and I wanted to look hopelessly at Morgan, but I could not take my eyes off the great, grey, writhing knot which was always in motion, heaving and working, now loosening, now tightening up.
“Hah!” cried Morgan, suddenly, as once more the horrible creature threw itself out to full length, and he sprang forward to seize the neck just as a wave ran along the body from tail to head; and as I pressed the pole down hard, the head rose like lightning, struck Morgan right in the face, and I saw him fall backward, rolling over and over; while, after writhing on the ground a moment or two, the snake raised its bleeding head, and I saw that it was drawing back to strike.