Then his eyes, piercing the darkness, made out the crawling, dark form, which did not appear to be more than fifty feet away from him.
For a second or two Harry stared. But he knew there could be no snake as broad as this crawling figure appeared to be.
"Who's there?" Hazelton called quickly.
The writhing mass became still, flattening itself against the bed of rock.
Hazelton was not to be deceived, however.
"Who's there?" Harry repeated. "You had better talk up, my man!"
Still no sound. Harry started forward to investigate. His foot touched against a good sized fragment of rock left there by one of the masons.
Without delay Harry reached down, picking up the rock, which was rather more than half as large as his head.
Holding this in his right hand Harry advanced with still more confidence, for he felt himself to be armed. Hazelton had been a clever pitcher in his high school days and knew that he could make this fragment of rock land pretty close to where he wanted it to go.
"Who are you?" demanded Hazelton, once more, as he stepped cautiously forward. "No use in your keeping silent, my man. I see you and know that you're there. Moreover, I'm going to drag the truth out of you as to what you're doing out here on the wall at this hour of the night—-and to-night of all nights."
Still no answer; Harry went steadily forward, until he was within a dozen feet of the head of the flattened brute in human guise. Hazelton could now see every line of his adversary plainly, though he could not make out the fellow's face.