“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“Look there!” said Harry, hastily.
“By Jehosophat!” exclaimed the boy, and, advancing toward the snake, he aimed a blow at his crest with a rough, stout stick which he held in his hand.
The blow fell with good effect. The snake had not yet seen his new adversary, and was taken unawares. The jagged stick tore his skin, and his head dropped forward, maimed and writhing.
“Follow it up!” cried Harry, in excitement. “Kill him!”
“I’ll do it!” said the boy, and he sprang forward to renew his attack.
He found a rock, or, rather, a large stone, close at hand, with which he bruised the serpent’s head and killed him.
“Ugh, you ugly beast!” he said, in a tone of disgust, miscalling his victim. But, then, a country boy is hardly expected to be well up in natural history.
“Thank you,” said Harry, breathing a sigh of relief.
“Why didn’t you kill him yourself?” asked the boy. Then, for the first time, noticing in the indistinct light Harry’s condition, he said, in surprise: “What’s the matter with you?”