Chris was silent as he stood listening to the struggles of what was evidently a large serpent, while it writhed violently below them, beating about and lashing the pile of remains that had crumbled down from the cell, and sending up quite a cloud to mingle with that of vapour which rose, smelling pungently of hydrogen, towards the overhanging blocks of stone roofing in the square pit.
“I guess I’m quite satisfied now that I didn’t go down,” said Griggs coolly; “but there don’t seem to be more’n one, or we should hear them travelling about.”
“This one makes noise enough for a dozen,” said Chris.—“I say, Ned, I beg pardon. You don’t want me to go on my knees, do you?”
“No,” replied the boy calmly, as he made the breech of his double gun snap to very loudly; “only I wouldn’t be quite so cocksure that you know everything, next time.”
“Thy servant humbles himself to the dust,” said Chris, in Eastern style.
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” said Griggs dryly; “certainly not till that gentleman below has done kicking it up. Say, how big should you say this one is?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It sounds as if it might be twenty feet long.”
“Yes; but if it is as long as that it wouldn’t be a rattler.”
“No; only a thumper,” cried Ned, laughing. “Hark, it’s quieting down now. Shall I give it another dose as soon as it is still?”
“No; save all the ammunition you can, my lad. It has had enough to finish it off. How strange it is that anything long should take such a time to die.”