They were up in one of the superheated rifts among the rocks, with the sun pouring down so powerfully that the whole party were very languid and disposed to seek the first shelter, when an incident that might have had a fatal termination came upon them like a shot.
Jack was in advance, and about to climb up to a shelf of rock in pursuit of some brilliant little lizards that were darting in and out of the crevices when Chicory shouted out,—
“Boss Jack! mind snake!”
It was too late. There was a great dust-coloured puff-adder lying in his way, with its thick clumsy body nestled in amongst the hot stones; and even as the Zulu boy’s warning was uttered, Jack’s boot pressed heavily upon the lower part of the dangerous reptile’s body.
Sluggish and dull before, this assault brought the reptile into a state of activity that was almost wonderful, and before Jack could realise his peril the short thick viper had struck twice at his leg. Before, however, it could strike again, its head lay upon the stones, cut off by a blow from Chicory’s long-bladed assegai, and the body of the dangerous beast was writhing amongst and rattling the stones.
“Chicory ’fraid he broke a bottle,” said the boy, who had dropped it in his excitement.
But the flask and its natural history contents formed a very minor consideration just then.
“Are you hurt, my boy?” cried Mr Rogers quickly. “Sit down there. Here, Dick, the spirit-flask. Now then, draw up your trouser-leg.”
Jack obeyed, and Mr Rogers immediately stripped down the lad’s rough worsted stocking, taking out his penknife and preparing to make the tiny punctures bleed freely, and to suck the fatal poison from the wounds.
“Does it pain you much?” said Mr Rogers excitedly; and his hands trembled for a moment, but only to grow strong directly.