“Yes,” said Brazier, slowly raising his gun, “but this light is so deceptive I am not at all sure that I can hit.”
“Oh, you’ll hit him full enough,” said Shaddy. “You must hit it, sir. Why, if you missed, the beast would come down upon us as savage as a tiger. Take a good, quiet aim down low so as to hit his neck, if you don’t his head. Are you cocked?”
“Tut! tut!” muttered Brazier, who in his excitement had forgotten this necessary preliminary, and making up for the omission.
“Come, Mr Rob, sir, don’t miss your chance of having a shot at a ’conda. ’Tain’t everybody who gets such a shot as that.”
Rob mechanically picked up his piece, examined the breech, and then waited for Mr Brazier to fire, feeling sure the while that if it depended upon him the creature would go off scathless.
“Now’s your time, sir!” whispered Shaddy. “He is put out, and means mischief. I’d let him have the small shot just beneath the jaws, if I could. Wait a moment, till he’s quiet. Rather too much waving about him yet. Look out, sir! he’s getting ready to make a dart at us, I do believe!”
But still Brazier did not fire, for the peculiar undulatory motion kept up by the serpent, as seen by the light of the fire, was singularly deceptive, and again and again the leader of the little expedition felt that if he fired it would be to miss.
Shaddy drew in a long breath, and gazed impatiently at Brazier, who was only moved by one idea—that of making a dead shot, to rid their little camp of a horrible-looking enemy.
Then the chance seemed to be gone, for by one quick movement of the lithe body and neck the head dropped down amongst the plants which clothed the tree trunk.
“Gone!” gasped Rob, with a sigh of satisfaction.