"But—aren't they dangerous?"
"Well—they might be, if you interfered with 'em," drawled Boone. "As long as you lay still and didn't meddle with 'em they'd be all right."
"But suppose in my sleep I'd thrown out my arm, as I sometimes do, and hit the snake?"
"Then there'd be a chance of his biting you."
"And I suppose that would be fatal?"
"I've been bit myself," said Ben, in a reminiscent tone.
"And did you die?"
It was upon Rupert's lips to say this, but it occurred to him that it would be rather an absurd question, so he changed it to, "How did you get over it?"
"I filled myself full of whiskey—it's the only way. I was never so drunk in my life. But when I got over it, I was all right."
"I suppose the whiskey neutralized the poison," suggested Rupert.