“Poison!” echoed Herb, who seemed to be in utter ignorance of the entire matter, and could only stare at the little speck of blood showing on the white skin as if horribly fascinated.
“Yes, oh! didn’t you hear the terrible buzz he gave when he stuck his fangs in me?” groaned poor Josh.
Jack had thrown himself down alongside the wounded one, and was minutely examining the hurt. He looked up at this juncture, and to the astonishment of Herb and George, was apparently grinning.
“Brace up, Josh,” he said, cheerfully; “you’re not going to kick the bucket yet awhile, I reckon.”
“Oh! how kind of you to tell me so, Jack; but how do you know? Please tell me why you say that,” pleaded the cook, beginning to look relieved; for he had fallen long ago into placing the utmost confidence in whatever Jack believed.
“Well, in the first place, there’s only one tiny puncture, you see; and if this was a snake bite there’d be the plain marks of two fangs,” Jack announced.
“Sounds all right, Jack; but perhaps this critter only had one fang. Didn’t you hear the angry shake of his old rattle-box when he struck? It gave me a cold chill, because, right at the same second, I felt something stick me. I’ll never forget the awful sensation, even if I do live through it,” and Josh rubbed his leg vigorously, as though hoping that by inducing a circulation he might avert the threatened dire catastrophe.
“Well, if you only look around right now, perhaps you’ll discover the source of that same buzz,” Jack went on, soberly.
“Why, whatever can you mean?” Josh stammered, staring his amazement.
“Notice how Nick, for instance, is trying the best he knows how to keep his face straight, even while he’s just shaking all over with the laugh that’s in him. Stand up, Nick; and hold out that hand you’ve got behind your back.”