“Look out!” suddenly cried Paul, pulling Cora back so sharply that she nearly toppled over. The next moment Paul caught up a stone and threw it with all his force at the spotted root. There was an angry hiss.
“Narrow escape for you, Cora,” said Paul, a trifle pale. “That was a copperhead snake!” and he pointed to the writhing, dying reptile. His stone had struck it fairly.
CHAPTER XVI—LOST
Cora Kimball was not an unusually nervous girl, nor was she given to hysterical demonstrations, but, somehow or other, she felt sick and faint as she looked at the wiggling snake in its death agony. Her eyes saw black, and she swayed so that Paul stepped forward and slipped an arm around her waist.
“I thought you were going to faint,” he said in explanation.
“I—I was,” faltered Cora. “But I’ve gotten over the notion. Thank—thank you, Paul. Could I have a drink of water?”
Jack brought her some from a spring not far away.
“Brace up, Sis,” he said with rough, brotherly kindness. “You’re all right. That snake wouldn’t have killed you anyhow. I’ve been bitten by ’em, and it isn’t much worse than a mosquito.”
“You have?” cried Paul, in such a queer tone that all save Cora realized that Jack was bluffing for the sake of minimizing the effect on Cora.
Jack made this plain to Paul by winking quickly, and motioning to him to confirm what he had said.