This, however, could not yet be determined. The darky had suffered quite a severe squeezing, and there was no certainty that bones had not been broken.
Frank applied the whisky to Pomp’s lips. Then the others rubbed his hands and feet vigorously.
In a few moments Pomp gasped and opened his eyes.
“Glory for goodness, Marse Frank,” he whispered, hoarsely, “am dis chile been sabed? I done fought I was a gone coon.”
“You’re all right, Pomp!” cried Frank, joyfully. “You’re sure you can move without pain, are you? Try and roll over.”
Pomp did as he was bid.
To the joy of all it was discovered that although the darky had experienced quite a severe squeezing he was practically uninjured.
In a few moments he was able to get upon his feet.
He was a trifle stiff and sore, but this bid fair to desert him in a short while.
Then it was seen that the anaconda was a monster.