The boy had an intense hatred of rattlesnakes, like most Westerners, and considered it a good deed to kill as many as possible.
The rifles were spitting lead as fast as the boys could pump bullets into the chambers and pull the triggers. The earth in front of them was beginning to resemble a butcher’s block. Torn bodies of the snakes were everywhere.
“Don’t seem to know when they’ve had enough!� came from Teddy as he pressed another clip into the rifle. “Golly, there must be a million of ’em!�
The angry buzz of the reptiles increased in intensity as more and more of the serpents issued forth from the cleft rock. The horses were whinnying in terror, and it needed all the skill the boys possessed to keep them from bolting. And, indeed, the sight of the deadly, wicked-looking, triangular heads of the snakes was a terrifying spectacle.
“There’s one less of ’em!� Roy cried, as he cut a large diamond-back in half with a bullet.
“Atta boy!� Teddy answered. “If this bronc of mine would hold still for a minute, I could get that big one near that tree!�
Roy looked to where his brother indicated and saw a huge snake lying coiled with his head drawn back ready to strike. The boy raised his rifle and took careful aim. Then a strange thing happened.
Almost more swiftly than the eye could follow, the snake uncoiled and glided toward Roy’s horse. But, suddenly, it stopped, raised its head, and for a moment stood perfectly still, directly in front of the two boys. The sound of rattling stopped as a radio that has been turned off. In surprise, Roy held his hand and did not take advantage of the splendid target offered, it seemed purposely, by the snake.
Teddy, however, was held in no such trance. Before him was a snake. It was his duty to kill it. The boy raised the rifle to his shoulder and squinted along the barrel. By almost a miracle, the horse remained quiet.
Roy watched the scene in a detached way, almost as though he was part of an audience of a staged drama. It was the moment of breathless suspense before the crisis.