“’Ware snakes, as aforesaid, neighbours,” repeated the American. “You may depend upon it some of those gentlemen came creeping or tumbling down from the flats above, found the premises convenient, and are living with large families up in some of these houses.”
These words had a strange effect upon the listeners. It was as if all the interest in the place had been crashed out; all desire to explore the wonders of this old city of the past had died away on the instant. As for the boys, their adventures in the desert came back, and clearly standing out were the creeping and writhing poisonous reptiles whose stroke meant a horrible death, lurking ready for them wherever they turned: and a shudder ran through them as if they had just been swept by some icy wind.
Then the doctor spoke.
“That’s a horrible notion of yours, Griggs,” he said; “but, after all, it is only a guess: there may not be a reptile here.”
“So much the better for us, sir,” cried the American cheerily; “but all the same I say it once more—’Ware snakes.”
“Yes: you all have a shot-cartridge ready?” said the doctor.
“Yes,” came back—one word, and everybody unslung his double piece.
“The mules,” said the doctor then—“we must not have them bitten.”
“They’ll be pretty safe where they are grazing,” said Griggs coolly. “Rattlesnakes don’t care for places like that. It’s in the stony sandy bits where they can get the full heat of the sun that there is most risk.”
“Yes,” said the doctor thoughtfully; “perhaps we might leave them as they are.”