“Know what it is, I suppose?” continued Morgan, who kept on talking in an excited way, as if to gain time while he tried to think out some plan, as was really the case; but the audience merely looked on frowningly, and I saw the chief draw back slightly as Morgan picked up the head and pointed to its fangs with his finger.
The thoughts of the risk he might be running made me forget for the moment any that was threatening us from the Indians, and I cried, in warning tones—
“Be careful; it may be dangerous though it’s dead.”
“Yes; this seems to be dead,” replied Morgan; “but I say, Master George, I don’t know whatever to do.”
“Scrape a hole first, and bury that horrid thing,” I said; “and then perhaps we shall see what they are going to do.”
“Not to kill us, are they?” he whispered.
I could not help giving a start of horror, and looking wildly round at the Indians, who stood like so many statues looking on, as, in a hasty, excited way, Morgan roughly kicked away some of the loose gravel, and then with the rake-handle scraped out a good-sized hole, into which he threw the snake’s head and dragged the body, raking the loose gravel back over them and stamping it down.
“Now then, Master George, what ’ll us do next?”
“I don’t know; let them take us away as prisoners, I suppose. We must not try to run away, because they would follow, and we should lead them home. Shall we run into the woods?”
“Never get there, my lad,” he replied, sadly. “They’d have us before we got a hundred yards.”