“They’re dangerous things, and the bite is very painful,” thought Tom; but he did not stir to get a stick to kill the reptile, for he was interested in its peculiar form, and the dark, velvety markings along its body, which glistened in the sun.
And there he stood, peering over into the little opening, in profound unconsciousness that he was being silently stalked, till, just as he had made up his mind to go to the nearest fir-tree and cut a stick, in the hope of finding the adder still there on his return, there was a sharp snuffling sound.
Tom started round, to find Pete’s ill-looking dog close at hand, but ready to spring away over the bushes as if expecting a blow.
Tom’s next glance showed him the disturbed viper, with its head raised, eyes glittering as if filled with fire, and its body all in motion. Then it was gone; but another pair of eyes were gazing into his, for Pete Warboys slowly raised himself from where he had crawled to the other side of the furze clump.
Chapter Thirty Four.
“Hulloo!” said Pete, with a sneering grin; “got you then, have I? Who gave you leave to come and pick them?”
“Hulloo, Pete!” said Tom quietly, ignoring the question, for the recollection of his thoughts during the past few days came up strongly, and all that the Vicar, his uncle, and David had said.
“Who are you a hulloo Peteing?” snarled the fellow. “Yer ain’t got no guns now to go shooting at people.”