“Bah! If I am to die, it shall be a decent death—not stung by some horrible reptile. I’ll risk losing my way going in search of water.”
“I have already told you,” said the doctor, “that the state of the horses will not allow of such a search being made till they have had such water as we have near. The only thing to be done is to contrive some way of getting the kegs here without risk.”
“Exactly,” said Bourne laconically; “but can you propose any way? For I must own that I cannot without horrible risk.”
“At present no way,” said the doctor sadly. “My only hope is in the horrible pests returning deeply underground at night; but I am sorry to say I know very little about the habits of these creatures. Do you, Wilton?”
“No,” replied their companion bitterly. “Latin, Greek, and mathematics were taught me, rattlesnakes left out.”
“But you,” said the doctor, wincing at his companion’s contemptuous manner, “you, Griggs, have seen a good deal of these reptiles in your time?”
“Tidy bit, sir. I saw one poor fellow die four hours after being bitten, and I’ve killed a few of the varmint; but I’ve seen more of ’em to-day than in all my life before.”
“Then you cannot say whether it would be safe to risk an attempt to get the kegs away?”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” said Griggs, who noted that Chris was watching him intently. “You see, sir, I’ve been thinking pretty closely about that matter. We must have those kegs somehow, even if the one who gets ’em is bitten for his pains.”
“Oh, but no such risk must be run,” cried the doctor excitedly.