Chapter Five.
A Taste of Something to come.
There was but little in the way of incident for some time. The dogs seemed to be never weary of hunting here and there, thrusting their noses under every rock, their heads into every hole; but they found nothing till after the midday halt, when a furious barking from the setter Rough’un took the attention of all, and Mr Rogers and the boys cantered up to a thin cluster of trees, where, on what seemed to be at first a broken stump, but which on nearer inspection proved to be a tall ragged ant-hill, a vicious-looking snake was curled, swinging its head about threateningly, and darting out its forked tongue at the dog, which kept its distance, barking furiously.
“A poisonous fellow—cobra evidently. Now, Dick, bring it down.”
“No; let Jack shoot, father,” said Dick. “My head aches, and I’m tired. Well, yes, I will.”
“That’s right, my boy. I want you to master this weakness,” said his father. “And besides, I want you to try how your horse stands fire. Nip him tightly with your knees.”
Dick cocked his double-barrelled breechloader—fired—and the serpent hissed loudly and began to descend, but a shot from Jack’s rifle laid it writhing on the ground, when, before it could be prevented, Rough’un seized it behind the head, worrying it furiously.
Fortunately the creature was mortally wounded, or it might have gone hard with one of the dogs, its poison being very violent; and the others coming up soon tore it to pieces.
“Your horses behaved admirably,” said Mr Rogers. “You must train them, my boys, so that they will stand where you leave them, and take no more notice of a shot fired over their heads than at a distance.”