“Yes! What?”
“Light a big fire of brushwood and green-stuff that would make a stifling smoke just to wind’ard of them. That would soon scare them off.”
“But there’s not a handful of stuff that would burn,” cried Chris, in despair.
“Nary scrap, my lad.”
“Look here; suppose we creep as near as we dare, and then fire off all four barrels of our rifles as closely together as we could, right at them. That would startle them into moving off.”
“P’r’aps,” said Griggs; “but the thing would be, which way would they go?”
“Which way? Why, from where the smoke and fire came.”
“Maybe, but I shouldn’t like to risk it. I’m afraid we shall have to wait, my lad—wait till it’s dark. Snakes always go back to their holes when the sun sets.”
“But that will take so long, and I’m choking with thirst,” cried Chris peevishly. “I say, how would it do to keep on pitching great pieces of stone in amongst them, or handfuls of small bits that would scatter and make a noise?”
“Only make ’em savage, I’m afraid. I should have most faith in putting a pound of powder and laying a train ready, so that one could light a bit of touch-tinder and get away to a safe distance. When that went off with a good explosion, I should think the rattlers would scuttle away.”