“That slab must be closed somehow, or we shall never be done with this beastly work,” shouted Ned. “All the pythons in Africa seem to have been preserved in that vault. Who is game to help me to shut down that trap?”
He made a desperate spring forward as he uttered the words, and ran, followed by the rest, right amongst the horrible mass.
Revolvers, spears, and axes did the rest of the battle.
They were not difficult to disable, although loathsome to feel and smell. And now that the men had got over their first surprised panic, they tackled the enemy with quick eyes and deft strokes.
Ned, Cocoeni, and two other Matabeles reached the stone, and managed to raise it and drop it once more into its place with a bang, cutting through the middle a couple of out-coming snakes. While they did so, the rest hewed, stabbed, and shot for all they were worth. In five more minutes the last of the sibilant hisses were silenced, and only the sound of lashing bodies could be heard.
Then, while they reloaded their weapons, they paused, waiting for the smoke to evaporate, while they cleared, with their rifle-butts and spears, the wriggling abominations from their vicinity.
Before this could be done, however, many a shiver passed over them as they felt a slimy tail convulsively grip round their legs. A slash with their knives relieved them of these unpleasant embraces, but the sensation was decidedly nauseous and creepy.
Slowly the gunpowder smoke grew thinner, as it escaped through the air-hole slits and up the staircase. It still, however, hung too closely around them to see the opposite walls.
All at once, as they listened for fresh hisses, a sound like coughing, outside their circle, struck upon their ears.
Snakes do not cough, although they can make a noise. Some human beings, with lungs less used to saltpetre fumes than theirs were, must be in the hall at the far end, as yet unseen. Strangers here meant probable enemies. Instantly and instinctively they drew together and formed a square, with their rifles up to their shoulders.