“Run!” cried Joe, as he saw that the anaconda was preparing to strike.
“One more shot,” whispered back Bob, again raising his rifle. “I’m afraid we couldn’t get far if we ran.”
Again the rifles spoke, and this time, thanks to the young hunters’ courage, both bullets smashed into the head and shattered it. The great snake thrashed about in its death struggle, the coils describing circles and curves. At last it quieted down and lay still. For the first time it had been defeated.
Bob and Joe waited several minutes for any other signs of life, but none came. They moved up to examine the great body, which lay stretched out over a radius of fifteen feet.
“Thicker than a man’s leg,” observed Joe, who was still unsteady from the terrible encounter.
“An unusually large specimen,” commented Bob. “Think of the excitement our dads would stir up if they could see it.”
“They might take it back to the States,” said Joe. “Only—I doubt if it would be much good to them with the head shattered as it is.”
The boys spent several more minutes in examining the anaconda. Then, unwilling to lose precious time, they started on down the decline. They intended at least to reach the other side before turning back.
“Steep along here,” said Joe, as they came to a rocky edge.