“What do you mean?”
“Promise me you’ll have that stuff ready to give me a strong dose if I’m bitten.”
“Trust me,” said the doctor.
“And trust me, sir,” cried Griggs.
The next minute he was striding along over the sand in and out amongst the scattered blocks of stone, and followed by his friends, cautiously on the alert for any reptiles that might be coiled up asleep.
But it was past their time; the sun had gone down, and the dusk of evening was rapidly growing into darkness, showing the party that if they had waited until a lanthorn was necessary there would have been great difficulty in putting into practice that which in theory sounded as easy as drawing on a glove.
Not a snake was to be seen when the party halted, following Griggs’s example, and standing about thirty feet behind him, the many blocks of rugged stone in front completely hiding the place where the barrels lay.
“Can you see any of the enemy?” said the doctor, just loudly enough for his voice to reach the American’s ears.
Griggs turned quickly, shook his head to indicate that the coast was clear, and then turned back to face his task.
The next minute they saw the deftly-thrown hook flying through the air, describing a curve, and the rings of the rope opening out as they followed the iron.