“Boss Dick shoot um? Boss Dick shoot noder lion?” cried Chicory.
“No,” said Dick; “it was a miss this time.”
“No,” cried Coffee; “I see um. Look, boss, look!”
Mr Rogers and Jack came hurrying up just then, and looking in the direction pointed out, there was the serpent, writhing and twining in the most horrible manner down in a narrow rift, out of which it now glided in a blind purposeless way, writhing, whipping the herbage with its tail, and tying itself in what seemed to be impossible knots.
“Coffee and Chick go and kill um,” said the latter, letting himself down the face of the precipice, followed by his brother; and, apparently quite without dread of the monster, they scrambled down over the rough stones till they came to the serpent, when, watching his opportunity, Coffee seized its tail and tried to drag it, but the creature seemed to whip him off, and Coffee uttered a yell as he was driven staggering back.
“Go down, Dick, and try and give the monster another shot,” said Mr Rogers. “No, stop; I dare say the boys will finish it.”
For just then, evidently enraged at the treatment his brother had received, Chicory drove his assegai through the serpent, and then again and again, the creature’s struggles being blind of purpose, for its head had been shattered by Dick’s shot; while fiercely leaping up, Coffee raised his own assegai, and holding it chopper fashion, he waited his time till the serpent’s head was handy, when he hewed it off.
The writhings now grew faint; and the General coming up, and descending with Mr Rogers and his sons and the dogs, which kept making rushes at the waving form and not biting it, the serpent was dragged out full length and measured, Mr Rogers making seven fair paces by its side, and setting it down at about eighteen feet in length.
“A nice monster to meet, Master Dick,” he said. “I congratulate you upon your success.”
“Have it skinned, father,” exclaimed Jack eagerly. “It would be such a capital thing to have, stuffed and coiled up, at home.”