He threw down the rattlesnake’s head, and then said thoughtfully—
“No; let’s take it up to the house, Master George, and let your father see the kind of game he’s got on his property. I’ll show it to my Sarah too, or she won’t believe it was such a big one, or got such poison fangs.”
“You’ll have to carry it home,” I said, with a shudder.
“No, I shan’t, Master George, and it’s of no use for you to try to make me believe you’re afraid, because I shan’t have it. You killed it, and I’ll twist up a bit o’ grass to make a rope, and you shall carry it home to show master and our Sarah. I can tie it to the end of the pole. Stop a minute; where’s my knife?—must be just here.”
He went straight for the low growth and bushes, and began peering about while I stood leaning on the pole and looking down at the slightly heaving form of the serpent, when my attention was taken by a hoarse cry from Morgan.
“What’s the matter?” I said, as I saw that he was bending forward staring in among the bushes.
He did not reply, and feeling certain that he had found another rattlesnake, I raised the pole once more, and went to where he stood, when my lips parted, and I turned to call for help, but stopped there, for I found myself face to face with a similar object to that which had arrested Morgan. A tall, keen-faced, half-naked Indian stood before me, with his black hair gathered back and tied up so that a few eagle feathers were stuck through it; a necklace or two was about his neck and hanging down upon his breast; a pair of fringed buckskin leggings covered his legs; and he carried a tomahawk in one hand, and a bow in the other.
Almost before I could recover from my surprise, I saw that we were completely surrounded, for at least a dozen more were dotted about the clearing.
At that moment Morgan seemed to get the better of his start, and backed to where I stood, with the Indian following him in a slow, stately manner.
“We’re in for it, Master George,” whispered Morgan. “What shall we do—run?”