Having ascertained that the snake was really dead, they dismounted and approached it; then, stretching out the reptile to its full length, Tom took a tape measure from his pocket and ran over its dimensions.
"Eighteen feet," he remarked, rising from his task. "The biggest python killed in these parts!"
"Have you many of these brutes about the place?" asked Guy, turning over the monster with his foot, and comparing the greenish white of its underparts with the brilliant markings of its upper colouring.
"No, not many," answered Tom. "They're shy, secretive beggars, and one very seldom, indeed, comes across them. I've not heard of one for two or three years."
"Thank goodness for that," rejoined Guy. "I must say, if I thought there were many of these creatures in the neighbourhood, I should come bird-shooting precious seldom, especially on foot. Surely they are dangerous? They're not poisonous, I suppose?"
"No, they're not poisonous, luckily," returned Tom. "But they can constrict. Whether they can kill a man I don't know. I shouldn't like to try the experiment. Father says they can't. Still, they can try; and if they were big enough--like this one, for example--they might give you a very unpleasant time of it. They certainly do kill small buck occasionally. Three years ago a python--rock snakes, the colonists call them--which father had shot was found to contain the bones of a duyker in its stomach; and our native boys killed another, with their knobkerries, which had killed and eaten a steinbuck just before, and was completely gorged and stupid after its meal."
They finished their shoot across the flat, adding three brace of koorhaan and Coqui partridges to their bag, and then came back to the dead python. Fastening this to the end of a piece of cord which Tom carried with him, they trailed the serpent behind them and struck for home. Arrived at Bamborough towards four o'clock, they stretched out the great serpent in the front garden, and invited all and sundry to come and view their conquest. It was agreed that so large a python had never before been seen in that part of the country.
"Yes," said Mr. Blakeney, as he watched Tom and Guy divesting the creature of its beautiful skin, "it's a big snake. Three years ago I got quite a fright with one of these reptiles. I was shooting alone and on foot about two miles from here. Juno was with me, and she seemed very uneasy, just as she was with you to-day. Suddenly, as I turned round--I don't know what made me do it--I saw, sticking out above the grass not ten yards behind me, a python. Just for one second I was in a real fright, I promise you--the thing was so sudden. However, the brute looked very nasty, and I put up my gun and fired at once, smashing its head to pieces. It struggled a bit, and another shot finished it. Now, that snake had followed me right across the flat from the river bed--where, I imagine, it had its holt or hiding-place in some bush or among the rocks--for a distance of more than a mile. It was rather uncanny, wasn't it?"
"Very uncanny, indeed," answered Guy. "I don't like the brutes at all. Do you think they would go for one?"
"No; on the whole, I don't think they would," said Mr. Blakeney. "And if they did, although they might frighten you and even hurt you, I don't think they could kill a man. They could kill a child, as they do undoubtedly kill a young calf sometimes; and for that reason I'm not over fond of them--in fact, I destroy them whenever I come across them, if I can. They're slippery brutes, however, and once let them get near rocks or bush and you'll never see them again."