"Weren't you afraid, my boy?" asked Aunt Mary, placing her hand on Francisco's arm.
"No, I was not afraid," said the boy. "Often I have killed a rattlesnake before."
"But were you not fearful that it would spring at you, or on Nellie, if you made a noise? Or that it might fix its eyes upon you and hold you there?"
"No, no; it is not true that they can do that," said Francisco, "unless, perhaps, with birds, who are so very little that they stand still with fear. The snakes run away when they hear a noise; they are afraid of noise and of men."
"There is probably a nest of snakes in the bushes," said Mr. Page.
"I think so," replied Francisco. "Shall we look?"
"No, no—not for us," said Mrs. Page. "Let us get as far away from here as we can, as soon as we can. The thought of the danger the child escaped makes me nervous and afraid."
"Strange that you did not hear it in the bushes," said Francisco.
"I did," responded Nellie. "I am sure I did. It went 'whiz—whiz,' like a corn-crake or a grasshopper, or those funny little windmills you take in your hand and whirl around, mamma. Why, it made me feel sleepy to listen to it; I know it made me go to sleep——"