“What is it?” asked Mark in an undertone, grasping his spear tightly. “There are no mummies here?”
“No,” said Bevis. “It’s the serpent, you know; he’s a hundred feet long; he’s come over from the Unknown Island, and he’s waiting in these sedges somewhere to catch something; the birds are afraid to sing.”
“Could he swallow a man?” said Mark.
“Swallow a man,” with curling lip. “Swallow a buffalo easily.”
“Hush! what’s that?” A puff of wind rustled the grasses.
“It’s the snake,” said Mark, and off he tore. Bevis close behind him, Pan at his heels. In this wild panic they dashed quickly through the grasses, which just before had been so wearisome an obstacle. But the heat pulled them up in ten minutes, panting.
“Did you see him?” said Bevis.
“Just a little bit of him—I think,” said Mark.
“We’ve left him behind.”
“He’ll find us by our track.”